It’s a little weird, but when I was a kid, September meant something different to me. September meant everything that I loved—my freedom, my lack of math homework, and my hours of Anastasia marathons—were suddenly coming to a grinding end. September meant homework. September meant bedtime at a reasonable hour, and September meant a juggernaut of newness. September, now that I think of it, was the first time I realized I hated change.
What’s strange, though, is that university is somehow different. Now I don’t know if that was just because I was working and doing summer school, but when September came around, I couldn’t wait to get back to school. I actually liked school, and I, especially now (as this is one of my last “first months”), like the first month of school.
I really do love it. The campus is busy, people seem happier and there’s hope…like, actual hope. Midterms haven’t ruined anyone yet, no one has properly been to the bookstore and people actually attempt to join clubs. It’s great! The energy is amazing! What I love so much about what September means now is the possibility that something different could happen this year. It’s crazy to think how much of a difference hope in the possibility of change can have. It’s the same reason that people make New Year resolutions, and vow to set “better goals.”
Sure, maybe that’s not healthy, but I like the possibility that change brings; that something mundane, like an old season, can receive a sudden surge of new life and an old direction can now lead to new routes.
So what am I saying? What’s my new goal? I guess it’s this: I’m going to attempt to embrace change more, not just for my own peace of mind, but because as I get close to the end of my university career, I now realize that change is one thing I’ll need to embrace, which, to tell you the truth, actually scares me. But change is inevitable, so I refuse to fear it.
Here’s to a new year.