The day my parents dropped me off here, I cried.
Next weekend my parents are coming down again, four years after leaving their first born in the middle of Indiana, far away from her friends and family in Illinois.
Their "baby" is graduating May 8. I will most likely cry again that day, too.
My first week at Ball State was incredibly traumatic. I knew one person here from my high school. Everyone else was unfamiliar. It did not help that I was in the "out-of-state" category -- you know, the people that pay way more than Hoosiers to go here.
The minute I got Internet access, I spent days on instant messenger, talking to my friends from home and trying to figure out how I was going to get into University of Illinois the following semester.
I'm glad I never went through with it.
After a few weeks of attending class and finding a group of girls on my floor who liked the same things I did, I no longer hated Ball State. Sure, they made fun of me. They made me say words like "socks" and they laughed at my Chicago accent. As kid from the suburbs, I never knew anything about detassling corn. I could tell someone how to ride the El, or let them know what real pizza tastes like, though.
Soon, I started stopping myself when saying terms like "kitty corner." It is "catty corner" here, or so I have been corrected. I have kept some of my convictions. I am still unconvinced that biscuits and gravy is suitable for breakfast, or any consumption.
Then one day I woke up and I was one of them - a Hoosier. I missed the girls from my floor when I went home. They took me home with them, and soon I had a little network of Indiana families.
After awhile, I started growing roots in Indiana. I watched NASCAR with a roommate a few times. I went to the Johnny Appleseed festival in Fort Wayne and to the Headless Horseman at Conner Prairie. I did my Christmas shopping in Indianapolis.
One day my freshman year, I must have felt particularly brave. I went down to the temporary DAILY NEWS office in the Student Center. I applied for a position.
After three years of working at the paper, I still think I need more time.
My sophomore year, I changed my major, but not to journalism, and I stayed devoted to the newspaper. I am sort of an oddity around here.
As a freshman, I thought the only path for me was to be a teacher. "I'm going to finish in four years and be one of those hip, cool history teachers that everyone visits and asks for letters of recommendation," I had told people when I was in high school.
Well, I'm finishing in four years, but as a political science major who wants to go into law.
This fall, as I finally started to feel like I was finding my place at Ball State, a letter arrived at my parent's house. The glorious document that determines our collective collegiate fate, the DAPR, came through with no bold type on it.
I was eligible for graduation.
The last few months of college have bee like the last few months of high school in a sense. Everyone wanted to know where I was going, what I wanted to do with my life and they all asked the same question.
"Aren't you excited to graduate?"
Right now, my answer is still no. If I had to come here one more time, even if it meant sobbing until Labor Day weekend again, I would. I doubt I would do anything differently, because that would mean I would have to sacrifice even one small memory.
I have considered asking people to make my life a living hell just so my departure from Ball State would seem more necessary. Right now it feels abrupt, like it did at 5 a.m. one August day four years ago when my parents packed me into the car and drove me here.
This graduation means something to me because I feel like I've earned it. I came here and made a new life. The fact that I have to leave what I have built is bittersweet.
I will miss Ball State and even Muncie. I will have earned a degree, but my learning did not stop there. I am not afraid of the unknown anymore. I am more afraid of never having the opportunity to reinvent myself again.
112--¦+â-å+â-¦"
o_phillipsColumn_gtDNEditorial112SORT2+â-ä2AUDT
+â-ä:h+â-íT
Read More
Three Air Jam teams take home the win
October 12, 2012Nineteen teams shimmied, shook and flipped for a sold out John R. Emens Auditorium on Thursday night during the 25th annual Air Jam.
Bill Clinton Speaks at North Central High School
October 12, 2012Former President's Speech Could Have Effect on State Senate Race
