Interesting conundrums befall college students (interesting, as in, ones that don’t involve money, dating, or ramen). I recently got the chance to truly reflect upon myself, as far as what I’m doing right now, majoring in the field of “Undecided”. Standing on this fence that crosses the lawns of Liberal/Fine Arts and Psychology is starting to get tiring.

I was recently opened to the fact that nothing in Psychology interests me besides the thought processes of human beings. You can’t just skip ahead of the boring stuff and dive into a fruitful career into studying/counseling people. In fact, there isn’t a clear cut way to that. No matter how I draw the picture, science is involved. I hate it.

No, I don’t hate it…I loathe the fact that I know what I love, and I can’t keep using excuses (whether they be disappointing my parents and family, or what-have-you). I have to face the facts: I am terrified of majoring in Theatre, or anything “Liberal Artsy”.

I keep telling myself that a Bachelors is only a piece of paper that I can use to get a job while I work on my masters, but I still haven’t immersed myself completely into acceptance. And perhaps, if I can’t just throw myself wholeheartedly into Theatre…then am I worthy of doing it at all?

So I think it’s safe to say that tonight was the topping on the cake of an amazing first week at UCF. So good that I decided to get off of my procrastination stump and post about it.

So, on a night of whistle-less store clerks, Park Avenue, and rude hosts, Vincent and I thought we’d cut our losses and head home early from a party at Rollins College (an easy 20 minute drive). So we get on Fairbanks (which turned into Orange Ave.) and we drive in what we think is the right direction home. And we drive. And we drive. And eventually, we see something that we shouldn’t be seeing: skyscrapers which are growing large in our vision. We were headed toward the city of Orlando.

We start to get in a panic. We don’t know whether to turn away from the road or keep going, so we decide to call the one person who would usually dwell in the city at 11:27 at night (we’ll call him Lee). So I call him up and, sure enough, there’s loud music in the background, so we figure he’s at I-Bar (which is in the direction we’re headed at this point). After asking him for directions home, we ask where he is, and we hear him say, “I’m at a gay bar, Polk.” At this point, we’ve passed the turns that we would have had to take, so Vince and I decide to go and visit our old friend. We keep driving…and driving….and driving…and finally we come across Pulse. Of course, there’s no parking at the actual parking lot, so we park at the Wendy’s across the street (which I don’t recommend, due to the fairly rude, fat janitor/cashier who wouldn’t let me in to use the restroom). We cross Orange Avenue (which is, basically, a death defying stunt that I wouldn’t recommend to anyone) and are now right outside Orlando’s premier gay bar. We call Lee to see if he’d meet us outside. No answer. So, with our chins held high, we work up the courage to walk in (which, just to note, would be the situation for us if it was any kind of club. You could tell that clubbing is definitely not our scene…yet…).

Now we’re inside the entrance, which is a small office-like area and has a couple of entrance ways which you could see through, and we text Lee again (since there was a $10 fee to enter after 11, of course). Lee and a mutual friend meets up with us, greets us, and pays our way in. So now Vince and I are walking through this club with different rooms (a smoky lounge area, a smoky dance area, a smoky women’s bathroom, and the outside bar) and meet up with some more friends and acquaintances. After a good hour of chatting and mingling, we heard that there was a drag show happening soon, which a few friends insisted upon us seeing. So we go to this other room, complete with stage, and watch a drag queen show (which was surprisingly hilarious.) Halfway through that show, we decided that we had to go, since Vince had work in the morning, so we bid our friends adieu, asked for some directions home, and after another hour and a half of driving on I4 and getting lost, we finally found our way back to good ol’ UCF.

Definitely a day…no…WEEK of firsts for me…and it’s only been one week.

In a short three days from today, I will be standing up, walking in a line from the back row I have been given, stand anxiously offstage, and be picking up the empty diploma case which my principal will hand me (we pick up our diplomas at school over the summer).

There was honestly a time in my life where I couldn’t see myself saying that sentence. It was a weird time when I thought either I wouldn’t graduate, or I wouldn’t live to see that day (not in a suicidal or terminally ill way). I just didn’t see myself going up to that stage and moving my tassel to the right. And now, it’s almost here. That day is coming upon me, and…I’m kind of mixed about it. Part of me is completely terrified, part of me is apathetic, and part of me is incredibly excited to be starting a new section of my life. It is a smorgasbord of emotions which are familiar to me. A smorgasbord I encounter right when I’m about to walk out on stage to perform for dozens, hundreds, or thousands of people (haven’t quite gotten to the millions yet).

Am I ready for it? My final bow out as a grade school student? You bet. Just have to wait out the darned 3 days.