After the Shock, or I Am Going to College

Last week, Wednesday, I woke up earlier than usual, about 6:30 a.m. There would be Latin later at 10:30. For some reason I picked up my phone and — you know what, I'll stop with the narration; I feel terribly inauthentic. (If I were narrating this aloud, the story would be littered with "uh"s and "um"s.)

Anyway, I got accepted into my first choice college, Wheaton College! 

"Dear Yuri Ben, It is my deep pleasure to inform you of your selection for admission to Wheaton College as a new freshman." That was great news to wake up to, really the news I'd been hoping for all college-app-season long; and I breathed a heartfelt prayer of thanks to God. I had been getting ready to prepare for college in Manila or even Davao, but along came this.

My goodness, my face, how my face must have looked.

Probably like this. This is as ecstatic as it gets.
He whip his hair back and forth.

As it turns out, I was very nonchalant outwardly ("It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud." - Sherlock). Maybe a sotto voce kettle-like hiss, but nothing more.

But anyway — I, am, going, to, college.

(Hey, cool effect. Jose Garcia Villa, whom I have not read, is famous for sticking a comma in front of every word in some of his poems.

Anywaaaayy...)

It's unreal. The idea of college was previously stuck up in theoretical limbo, and I couldn't feel it in my gut. I simply walked around thinking — knowing, somewhat — that I would be going to college some time in the abstract future. Which when pondered on often dissipates into wisps, and the idea of the future floats imperceptibly away —  but what? no matter. Intangible facts are so much easier to deal with than those that are palpable.

But after the unreality comes, insolently hopping and skipping, the visceral reality. I cried once, realizing that I would have to leave the city I've called home for an on-and-off fourteen years. But that was in a dream (I do my utmost to not appear a sissy in waking life) and I couldn't resist my subconscious in my dream. Thanks for nothing, Freud. At least I will be going to a place just a few miles from another place I have called home. I went to the DFA and picked up a passport renewal form. I never knew a piece of badly photocopied paper could be so intimidating.

Beyond that, I will have to start taking care of stuff. See? Look at that. I call responsibilities "stuff", not some concrete moniker, like cooking, or washing clothes (thank You, Lord, for the staggering technological advancement brought about by the laundromat), or — I shudder — talking to strangers. Ugh. I will have to grow up.

And beyond that, I will have to wear multiple layers of clothing. Because Wheaton is situated in the cold, bleak, flat, and beautiful Midwest. Snow jacket and scarves and snow pants and snow boots.

Because summer avoids the Midwest like the plague, right?

yep

And yet beyond that, I will have to start taking GPA seriously. And the fact that there will nearby be a legit library means that I will have to exercise temperance, because yes, that poetry collection is very enticing but
YOU HAVE A CALCULUS ASSIGNMENT TO FINISH, YOU SHIFTY NON-STEM MAJOR!

I plan to study English at Wheaton, because on the campus lies a collection of Inklings, Sayers, and Chesterton memorabilia, including the selfsame desk on which Tolkien wrote The Hobbit, and because, based on what I've checked of the course offerings, there will be tons of opportunities to study some of the authors I've loved in high school. There's also a chance of me double majoring, and I think I hear Ancient Languages calling my name. There is also a smidgen of a possibility of triple majoring, but that would take a whole lot of work, prayer, and coffee. But that's all tentative. Switching academic plans is quite easy, unlike in the Philippines, where a student will be penalized both financially and in length of study for shifting courses.

.

.

The reality of college is overwhelming at the moment, but I will have to get going.

To close this rambling... thing, I quote the opening of one of e.e. cummings' most famous poems:

"i thank You God for most this amazing"