Part 1: "An American Werewolf in London"
It's a beautiful fall day--just like the ones in North Carolina. I keep imagining being back in Raleigh for Halloween next year, before I remember that I won't. Fall break isn't long enough to be worth the price of the plane ticket home. That won't change between now and next year. I'll still be at school.
It's a beautiful fall day--just like the ones in North Carolina. I keep imagining being back in Raleigh for Halloween next year, before I remember that I won't. Fall break isn't long enough to be worth the price of the plane ticket home. That won't change between now and next year. I'll still be at school.
Halloween is what makes me realize: attending an out of state
college has its downsides. It’s difficult to describe exactly what those
downsides are. When I was applying, the thing I heard again and again was,
“Think carefully about going out of state. It’s far away from home.” People say
that a lot, but no one really goes into any detail about why it’s difficult. Being
away from home sounds like the only con to going to an out of state college.
Really, being away from home is a lot of little cons all put together.
When you go to an out of state college, you’re uprooting a whole
life and starting a new one in a different state. It’s not just that you’re
going to a different school—it’s that you have to live somewhere different.
When Jason (who directed me in “The Tempest—” one of those STC shows
produced by Burning Coal J) emails me about a new improv class
he’s teaching, or tells me about a performance opportunity, I can’t take him up
on it. I can’t visit my old high school to see their fall production of “Alice
in Wonderland.” I can’t go home over fall break at all.
I can’t go home to raid my attic for Halloween costume pieces, or
borrow from Sam’s wardrobe without having to walk 5 minutes to her dorm. I
can’t carve Halloween pumpkins anymore (an activity I did with my mom
previously only at great protest), or decorate the house with Halloween
decorations, or drink homemade apple cider.
I can’t visit Asheville to be there for my friend, just to see him.
I can’t sneak down into my kitchen for a midnight snack (e.g. ice cream). I
can’t bake cookies whenever I want, or use the food processor, the garbage
disposal or the toaster oven when I feel like it. I have to manage new
insurance, figure out how to absentee vote, and twice a year move all my
belongings from Ohio to North Carolina and vice versa.
I miss being in Raleigh because I know the city there. I know where
the scarecrow making competition is, and which restaurants are the best when
I’m craving vegetarian food. I know where the midnight showing of Rocky Horror
Picture Show is, and where to get the cheapest tickets for movies, and when the
art museum is putting on a special exhibition. I’ve lived in and around Raleigh
for the better part of 18 years. Leaving it behind is leaving behind everything
I know about my own little corner of the world.
So really, future college students, think hard about moving to
another state. Starting a new life may sound awesome on paper, but it’s got its
downsides. You have to relearn everything, and that takes time. A couple years,
at least. And after you get adjusted, what about when you graduate? Are you
just going to pick up and move again, or do you really want to stay wherever
you are, get a job?
I never thought I’d miss Raleigh, but here I am, 3 months into
freshman year, missing it. And the thing I miss most isn’t my favorite restaurant,
isn’t having to make new friends or new connections (I can find those things in
time)—it’s being away from home. It’s being away from my family. I like
Cleveland, and I know I could love it. But that physical distance between me
and my family isn’t something I can overcome with a little willpower. It’s
real, and it doesn’t go away.
