moving on again

In less than 48 hours, I will be moving in to my 4th dorm room at my 3rd college with my 4th new roommate, about to embark on my 3rd college orientation. Am I excited? Yes, yes I am. At the same time, though, there's a part of me that feels unprepared and scared to go back to school, especially a new school. Actually, I think that's the only thing that's making me nervous. I'm a 3rd year, technically a second-semester Sophomore (by Chatham transfer standards), and I don't know my way around campus, don't know any of the teachers, don't have any friends besides my freshman roommate who already has friends attending Chatham, and I feel inadequate & unprepared.
I think it's mostly the not knowing my teachers that gets me. I would be a hell of a lot less intimidated by my course load (Intro to Reporting, World Film History, Intercultural Communications, Elementary Statistics, Step Aerobics, and The Communique - the school newspaper) if I knew that Dr. Duder, Dr. Stayton, and Dr. Teinert were going to be my three main professors, along with Dr. Nick for stats. But they're not, and I don't know these people. What if they're real bastards? What if they don't like me like my previous english professors have, giving me buckets full of adoration and preferential treatment? What if the classes are TOO hard? What if I fall ill, physically and/or emotionally, like I'm prone to do under stress, and need a little help later in the semester but am too shy to ask for it because these new, unfamiliar teachers haven't known me for 2 years nor do they know my back story? What if I need to plop down on a pile of comfy pillows in someone's office and cry for awhile, but Dr. Stayton's comfy pillows instead of chairs aren't there and Dr. Teinert's not there to lower the lights and close the blinds so we can be alone? What if I get fed up with it all and just need to vent and talk about football, but Dr. Nick isn't there to be my psychology teacher and part-time psychologist when I refuse to get up from my seat because I'm about to explode with anger and/or tears after class ends? What if I need extra encouragement to write, but Dr. Duder isn't there to tell me I'm the best writer he's ever encountered at such a young age and to tell me I made him cry with the paper I wrote in less than an hour, boosting my self-esteem and allowing me to power through three more papers in one day? What if I'm having a bad day and just secretly want someone to recognize it, but Dr. Teinert isn't there at 8 pm to find me loitering in the hallway and give me a big hug because I "look really sad"? What if these new professors are hardasses that I can't relate to on any level, that don't see me as anything special, that don't really care?

I was SPECIAL at Concordia - I was a star student, and I truly believe a lot of that had to do with the fact that I was one of maybe 6 English majors in the entire undergrad population, so of course I SEEMED like a great writer and like I "got" everything on a deeper level than any of my classmates. But my classmates were athletes and business majors who couldn't give two shits about literary structure, symbolism, and the power of alliteration, nor could they appreciate Greek Drama for the foundation and backbone of literature that it is, even if they wanted to. I know, I'm a fucking snob, sue me. I earned my right to be a snob at Concordia. Now.. now I'm just another average undergrad with a Peterpan complex who doesn't want to grow up so is settling on the dream of being a writer because it doesn't require a career path.
I finally got comfortable at Concordia - I dug my heels in and made myself a cozy little home among professors that I loved and that loved me equally, then throw in a handful of peers I found myself in a lot of classes with that became familiar, almost friendly faces. I knew I was going to uproot myself from that place, that it was only temporary, but I found a similar comfort there to what I had at Huntington-Surrey, and now I'm afraid Chatham will become to Concordia what Warren Wilson became to Huntington: not good enough, not home enough, the crazy and the asylum. I'm scared.
It's just school. It's actually a rather easy course load, save reporting and stats (Reporting is really hard and I'm not good at it. For someone who voluntarily became a Communications: Journalism major, I am unbelievably uncomfortable and bad at reporting. And I'm not anticipating stats to be very easy, but according to my World Film History teacher, who is also my advisor, the professor is REALLY cool and REALLY understanding of us english majors and our lack of mathematical understanding), but it's intimidating nonetheless. I know it's going to be a lot of work, and I'm lazy. When it all comes right down to it, it's just that: I'm lazy. I could get away with doing a half-assed job at Huntington because half-assed was good enough and because I was a favorite. Same story at Concordia. Now I actually have to work, and I have to work hard. And I'm just not used to it. And it scares me.




Going to shut up now and find something relatively productive to do.

My tooth hurts.

The end.