1,389 miles

            It’s funny how much “college preparation” I did in high school. I took ten AP classes, one IB course, and one Honors Accelerated course. I certainly was well prepared for the academic side of college, but didn’t have any preparation in high school for, at least for me, the scariest part of college- everything but the academics. I remember convincing myself that going to a school more than one thousand miles from home where I knew no one was unmistakably the right idea. What I failed to consider was how scary that transition would be. I didn’t expect a new culture, new lifestyle, and unfamiliar personalities. Of course, that’s exactly what I received, a brand new life. It’s what I asked for, but wasn’t what I expected.

            At the start of my second semester at TCU, I can still clearly remember the day before I began my adventure. My mom was frantic. I hadn’t started packing and it was already five o’clock at night. She was completely justified in her actions, I was just trying to hold on to what little bit of summer I had left. I started summer on June 23, and it was now August 9 and it was over. I was beginning to have reservations about this whole going away to college thing. When you are taking a college tour, it’s all fine and good. The student guide tells you about how great their school is, about how accepting and friendly the student body is, and most of all, how they wouldn’t rather be at any other university. The process painted an ideal picture in my mind; TCU must be the holy land! I thought I would have hundreds of friends instantly. I would be accepted for every part of me. I would be surrounded with a body of Christians actively seeking the Lord. Essentially, everything I wished for in high school would be realized at this magic place called TCU.  Despite all this positivity, the reality of leaving everything I knew behind began to weigh in on me. I questioned if this only child was indeed ready to go out on his own. Either way, my leaving was inevitable.

            My eyes opened, and I felt scared. Uncertainty was upon me more than any time in my life. Even in the simplest senses, I’d never flown with all of my guitar equipment before. It is kind of a funny experience getting two guitars through the security check. You get asked interesting questions such as what instrument do you play? Are you a musician? Perhaps the best reaction was on the plain. Apparently one of the Jonas Brothers had been on the flight recently, so because I had a guitar with me, the stewardess assumed I must be one of those Jonas Brothers kids. I always enjoy those interactions. During the flight, my feelings seemed to move back to normal. I felt as if I was leaving on a vacation. We landed in the evening, and reality sunk in again. I wouldn’t be returning with my parents this time.

            That night, I walked into Milton Daniel for the first time. It was much smaller than I imagined it being. I still had never seen a college dorm as nice, but I simply had boosted the dorm up to something that probably doesn’t exist in the world of college dorms. I met with the RA at the front desk. She was a blonde girl, not much older than myself. She asked me my name, and took my ID in exchange for a cart and my room key. As I turned the key to basement room 23, I felt excited. The door opened to an empty room, two lofted beds and furniture crammed underneath. I felt closed in within the sterile white laws and minimal sunlight creeping in through our window. Not quite the Hilton Hotel room I had been told about. My Mom and Dad reassured me that it would come together and feel a lot less campy. We headed back upstairs to return the cart. Though it was the same girl at the desk, she asked me who I was. As ridiculous as this might be, I was a little hurt. I just met her about ten minutes ago, and she had already forgotten who I was. Talk about a warm welcome.

            About five days later, my parents flew back to California, and I never felt so alone in my life. I didn’t know anyone, and apparently didn’t understand how to make friends. I would approach random people in my residence hall to try and meet them, but very few bothered to remember my name. Some people I met at least three times, but every time was the first time. I took it too personally. Everyone was feeling overwhelmed. Still, I didn’t understand why I wasn’t worth remembering. I sat in my room, and would Skype my old friends who hadn’t started school yet. It helped me to feel a little less lonely. I knew I still mattered to someone. Just about anything I could do to take my mind off my new surrounding, I’d do it.

            One of the biggest transitions for a hopeful musician as myself was the limited time I could spend playing my guitar. I knew I couldn’t simply plug in my electric guitar and practice for hours on end like I did at home. I now had to consider all 35 or so guys living in the basement. It continues to frustrate me to this day. I’ve literally gone from playing two to three hours a day to maybe forty-five minutes a day. I’ve recently discovered ways around it, such as playing my electric guitar unplugged. Needless to say, this is still a transition I’m getting used to. All I want to do is music, yet this whole dorm situation is a giant obstacle to it. I was in over my head trying to avoid being a disruption to everyone around me, especially my roommate.

            I’m still shocked by the clothing style of the students at TCU. Backwards hats, polo shirts and shorts, and Sperry’s everywhere. All of which are things no one in their right mind would be caught dead in in California. I’m still looked upon differently for not joining the fraternity boy trend, but it’s simply not who I am. The more I thought about it, the more I realized my expectations for TCU were so far from reality. It seems so logical now that going to school in a place 1,389 miles from home would probably be pretty different, but I failed to make that connection during my college decision process. I know my frustration with high school played an incredible role that decision. I was so fed up with the people who wrote me off that getting away from all I knew seemed like the ultimate solution. Now at TCU, I realized the enormous amount of good I left. I left my two loving parents, grandparents, friends I’d known since elementary school, and the place I loved most in high school, Saddleback Church.  Oh yeah, and the happiest place on earth, Disneyland. I am a true California kid, I dress like a musician because that’s what I know, not a polo magazine. I took advantage of the wonderful surroundings of Orange County I no longer have access to most of the year. It’s funny how sure I was I didn’t want to be associated with my home, yet I miss it and appreciate it more than I have at any point in my life.