Views of college during high school went a little something like: this magical place which in four years manages to teach you how to make it in the ‘real world’ while showing you which path is best for you, who to take it with, and which lasting memories to never forget.

College views from 3/4ths of the first year looks a little something like: a let down. Everyday seems to be a different shade of gray. Trying to create colors and experiences with the ‘theatre’ crowd better known as sci-fi freaks, or the hip-hop athlete girls, or the hockey local celebrity lesbian stars, or even douche bag pitt guys. When in the morning, after the hope of finding a rainbow everything is still black and white.

It’s like painting on a non-stick surface.

Some people peak in high school, and they may not realize this at the time but their parents probably do and their teachers. Adults can point their neon shine out from afar. As for the others, the dark and twisty teenagers, most of them wake up every early morning and mentally add another tally to the list of days they made it through. And if they stuck with the program long enough to be handed a diploma, then the feeling of passing time aimlessly, without enjoyment and purpose was supposed to disappear. The students who managed to fill out an application to university were promised a different kind of educational experience. One with meaning, fun, bestfriendsforlife, and job placement directly following.

What happens when college isn’t a big fucking ray of sunshine? 

The same feelings of having no interests or direction persist with more strength and vigor than any career-of-the-week. Only now it’s in real time. Resume pinpoints remain blank, photo-books unfilled, and pockets empty. Options whose lack-thereof used to be justified by being a kid still stuck in high school. Maybe its a lesson in responsibility, at the end of the day everyone is responsible for their own happiness. Although college is supposed to be the place where the correct path becomes clear to you. All you have to do is find a way to follow. 

But what if there is no yellow brick road?

Does it mean that another natural disaster is your catalyst, not a tornado. Could a geographical location really create the right spark to set your slippers aglow? It seems like something uncomfortable, shameful, and resembling giving up to think that moving away could be a the fix which could make a reality out of magical past expectations. Because after having prolonged feelings of emptiness even after the semi-normal high school blues, those expectations changed. I’m not looking for chunky knit sweaters around a camp fire, or clever androgynous girls who watch Rachel Maddow, or even life-changing round table class discussions on how to save the world. I’d settle for any direction, any light at the end of the tunnel to optimism. 

Where do you look for direction? Or possibly inspiration?

When by definition they are things which you stumble upon, not consciously decide. Usually an unexplainable desire in your gut serves as a compass. Without the correct desire for this stage in life feelings of numbness run rampant, which by definition is also impossible. Being numb is supposed to mean the opposite of feeling. But alas sensory cortexes can identify numbness. When this happens simultaneously with the search for a bright colorful path. And although two impossible events are happening no rainbows are produced, only a let down of black and white.