A Conclusion of Sorts?

After narrowly avoiding a really nasty car accident on snow-covered roads (for those of you unfamiliar with my driving record, I have had awful driving luck in the past year, especially in the snow, and admit that I am a terrible driver), and looking at the weather over the next few days, I have decided to once again leave a place a few days early to beat the snow. This time I am going from my home in Green Bank, West Virginia, back to Oberlin, Ohio, to start my fourth semester at Oberlin, my second semester as a psychology major, my first semester as a Harkness-dweller, and what will hopefully be my first semester as a WOBC programmer. I'm feeling slightly adrift after coming back from Kentucky, sleeping in my old bed, re-reading my old diaries, consuming far too much peanut butter, and living with three other people who I've known my entire life. I'm not ready to go back to Oberlin yet, but I also need to leave home again. So on Thursday morning, I'll stuff everything back into the Subaru, head cautiously North, and hope that there will be a bed and some friendly faces waiting on the other end.

I think my winter term was pretty durn cool, but when I read other Obies' winter term blogs, or look at other Obies' photos, I think "Why didn't I bike to Kentucky?" or "Why didn't I do this in French," or "Why didn't I camp out in a tree protesting MTR, talk to Governor Manchin, finish knitting my sweater, AND master banjo, bass and nose-flute?" The sad truth (as I've learned from re-reading my 4th grade and 12th grade diaries) is that I'm always going to compare myself to other people, I'm always going to be a perfectionist, I'm always going to have difficulty making decisions, and I'm always going to quit something when I've bitten off more than I can chew. The last quality is something that I think is pretty rare in Oberlin students, and also the reason I didn't finish my sweater. But I digress.

I might not have learned a foreign language, spoken with any politicians, helped sick children, learned a musical instrument, or gotten in incredible physical condition, but I did conquer my fear of the "real world." I have always had a deep feeling that everything is going to be okay. In intro psych, I learned that many people have these kinds of beliefs, and they're not necessarily true. But I still think that they are, and here's why:

1. It sounds so silly and obvious, but I have learned from my month in Kentucky that being an adult doesn't make you wise, all-knowing or infallible. This is not to say that the adults I was surrounded by were terribly flawed human beings. Because I was being treated as an adult, and essentially was (am?) an adult, I saw other adults differently than I see my parents, my parents' friends or professors. Instead of scaring me half to death, this revelation was incredibly reassuring. Because if adults are capable of holding down jobs, going to grad school, starting businesses, and raising children, then so am I.

2. I grew up in a small town. In small towns, when you are sick, people hold spaghetti dinners to help pay your medical expenses. In small towns when you are new, people go out of their way to be kind to you. In small towns when you are hungry, people want to feed you. In small towns when you go off to college in a slightly bigger town, go to an even bigger small town for a month and write a blog about it, people take time from their day to read that blog, and even tune in to your morning radio show.

Small towns aren't perfect, and I could also discuss the gossip, poverty, isolation, and other problems that go along with them. I know that entering the real world through an unfamiliar small town could be just as scary as entering it through a big town. But I do know that once I am a part of that small town, I will have a safety net.

3. (SENTIMENTAL CHEESE ALERT!!!) People are my favorite thing in the world. I love people, and I am fortunate enough to have people that love me back. These people live all over the continental United States, and I'm sure if I think about it, a few of these people also live outside of the country. Now some of these people are in Kentucky.

4. I'm not afraid of floating around a little bit until I find my place. I'm not afraid of using networking to find opportunities. I'm not afraid of driving strange places on tires that may or may not need more air. I'm not afraid of calling someone to ask for directions because I am lost on a back road. I'm not afraid of going to bars by myself. I am afraid of driving in the snow, jumping off of high things, and tube slides, but there are more things that I am not afraid of. And the "real world" is now one of them.

I know it will take some stumbling around in the dark looking for the string to turn on the lightbulb in my cold cold apartment and some (gulp) failure before I find my way, but I will find it.