London Bridge Might Seriously Fall Down

For two-an-a-half years, I planned my entire academic life around a semester abroad in London – spring ’10. It was 2 a.m. on September 25, 2009 as I sat staring at my MAC. The London Journalism Study Abroad Program application was due that day at 4 p.m. I had a luncheon with my professor Mike at 12 p.m. – he happened to be whom I requested a letter of recommendation from – so I had just about enough time to get back to campus, take my passport photos, pick up my transcripts and turn in my application. The only thing I needed to do was…begin my personal statement. Being a journalist it should be assumed that this should have been the easiest portion of the application, correct? No!

I began feeling insecure, and it started making me sad because I have always been obstinate. I set myself goals and I don’t stop until my goals are achieved. I realized that I had told everyone that I wanted to go to London and it was a given that I would go because they all knew how much I wanted this. But, in the back of my head, I realized that in spite of how much I wanted this experience and how integral it would to my growth as a person and as a journalist, I couldn’t handle rejection. I don’t know what it is like to fail. I mean, sure, I’ve gotten a few “B’s” and even a “C” since arriving at USC, but I don’t know what is like to want something so badly, work hard to try and get it and then all of sudden you don’t achieve your goals. That is not a reality that I have embraced. Everything I work hard for, I get. So, applying for this position at City University meant that I could be rejected for the first time.

I settled for giving up. That just made me livid because I have never surrendered to adversity. (Mind you there wasn’t much adversity here, just some emotional and mental breakdown). Anyway, I realized my first year in college that I almost made the most imbecilic decision of my life in choosing to go to Cal State Long Beach over USC, claiming that I couldn’t abandon my family. In talking with “Mommy” and “Daddy,” about that erroneous part of my life, I realized that I would have ALWAYS wondered – and probably hated myself – what if I had gone to USC. What if I would have thought things through and made a right decision rather than throw it away over something meaningless and pathetic? I didn’t want to go through this feeling so I decided to start writing.

A few weeks later, I got accepted to the program! Now, my predicaments lie elsewhere…

With only a few days to spare, I have to start packing. We were asked to pack ONE check-in bag. Ok. Let’s back up a little bit. Does anyone in their right mind see something wrong with this picture? Anyone who knows me knows that I carry ONE check-in bag for a WEEKEND trip! How am I supposed to consolidate five months into one check-in?! Do you all see my dillema?

I’m not being a princess this time. When I go away to USC, just 30 minutes away from my parents’ home in Orange County, I take about 10 boxes, three suitcases, and most of my clothes, is just transported in hangers. Again, I ask you all:

How am I supposed to consolidate all of that into ONE suit case?!

I’m not trying to be facetious, but London Bridge might seriously fall down… Keep up with my blog if you want to see what happens next!