[Your Turn] Into The Unknown

by Kaycie Hall
August 23, 2006

For me, high school was awful. I felt like I was trapped in useless classes surrounded by immature and idiotic people. Then comes senior year, when everyone pretends they have always loved each other. People who have hardly spoken a word to you in three years suddenly want to be your best friend. And in my opinion, everyone becomes entirely too emotional. To finally be free of it all is a dream come true. "College" says to me that I will be able to see who I choose, learn about what I choose and be free of all that high school drama.

Sounds great, right? Almost. You see, for every 10 people I couldn't stand in high school, there was one that I truly adored. Some graduated with me, and some I had to leave behind. Some friends still have one more year of high school, and some are going off to different colleges. And of course, there are the teachers who made high school classes worth attending. It's saying goodbye to all of these people that is starting to take a toll on my mounting excitement.

It's not that I'm afraid of never seeing people again. I know that with all of the technology available to us, I am perfectly capable of keeping in touch with anyone I choose. I also know that there will be weekends, holidays and many more summers to come. What I am apprehensive about is that before this fall, I would have been able to see any one of these friends at any time. Now we will be separated. No more spontaneous trips to Cups or Winner's Circle Park, or at least not for a while. I'll just have to get used to it. I suppose I shouldn't worry, because everyone knows that true friendships always withstand the test of time and distance.

This same feeling also applies to my family. I live with my father and younger brother. No, of course we don't understand each other. Each thinks the others are strange, but we love each other anyway, and I suppose that's what makes us a family.

I've always said I want to get out and live on my own. No more curfews, no cleaning unless I feel like it, no arguing over who has to turn their music down. I admit it will be strange not arguing over who left their dishes out or whose turn it is to let the dog out. It will be strange to go out with a boy and not be endlessly teased.

Even so, I know I could always count on my little brother to go out to lunch with me if no one else could, and my father would take me out for sushi if I'd had a bad day. I'm also a little afraid of leaving them to their own devices—afraid that I'll come home to a house overrun with hunting gear and golfing essentials. In a way, though, I think maybe my leaving will be good for us all. It will teach me not to take my family for granted, and that's a lesson I think everyone should learn.

A few weeks ago, I did some last-minute shopping with my best friend and future roommate. I was overwhelmed by the realization that I would suddenly have to supply myself with so many things that are usually just sitting around the house, or easily added to the family grocery list. I knew I would have to buy a new bedspread and sheets. If left to my own devices, though, I would have never thought to buy new towels, laundry detergent or cleaning supplies. Nor did I think about having to buy personal essentials like toothpaste. I realize now that it was silly of me to be so shocked by all this, but I was.

I had another odd epiphany while I was shopping. I noticed an inordinate number of storage boxes. It seems that every single store had tons and tons of boxes. Decorative boxes, plain boxes, wire cube boxes, boxes disguised as ottomans. I mean, seriously, just because I'm moving does not mean I want to pack my entire life into boxes. I don't live out of boxes now, so why should I start? Is this the way it's done at college? If in doubt, put it in a box? I certainly hope not.

One last thing has been on my mind ever since applying for college last school year, and that's the way that every college seems so disorganized. Perhaps I was just being paranoid, but every time I mailed in an application or scholarship essay, I was afraid it would be lost on the desk of some scatterbrained admissions officer. I like to be in control of everything that's mine, but that's not such an unusual trait, is it?

Whenever I had to wait months for replies, I began to worry. Sometimes, I pestered my father into calling the admissions offices and asking questions for me. Despite my anxiety, I got into the college of my choice. The problem came with my living situation, and it was straightened out only recently, with hardly a week to spare.

My scholarships required me to live on campus—I wanted that experience. But I was concerned about was who I would be living with. I'm not brave enough to take chances with a random roommate. Yes, I could make a new friend, but I could also get stuck with the spawn of Satan, or worse, someone who likes country music. There's no way I was going to risk that. It took many a phone call, e-mail and letter to ensure my best friend would be my roommate. I nearly had a panic attack before the process was completed. I'm hoping this is the last time I will have to worry about such things, but something tells me that it isn't.

By the time this article is printed, I will be living in a disgustingly small dorm room in Hattiesburg. I'm sure I will love my new-found freedom. I will be starting to take the classes of my choice, getting used to not bickering with my little brother every morning for the first time in 14 years and doing all I can to avoid gaining the "freshman fifteen." Wish me luck.

Kaycie Hall is a 2006 graduate of Northeast Rankin, and interned at the JFP this summer.

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