The Next Chapter
It all started with a nine year old Nicole, cliché as it sounds, admiring a new copy of Anne of Green Gables. Little did little me know, that I'd be opening up the pages to more than a book, but, unmistakably, a passion. I've always known I wanted to study English Literature and I could continue talking about that for hours, but hell, "Where?" was the question that I struggled to answer since the tenth grade.
I narrowed it down by the time I applied, going back and forth between Queen's and Ryerson University for actually months. I had probably done thousands of virtual campus tours of the both and still been confused. Sometimes, I wanted to be in the city, the culture clashing around me vibrantly as I wrote myself a story of self invention. During others, I wanted to sit by a lake and reminisce over old Dickinson poems that drove me to believe in love and find it in everything I could. I told myself that acceptance letters would make my decision, when I had the two staring me back straight in the eyes I could tell you exactly which school my blonde haired, nose pierced, short self belonged. That however, was not the case.
It was actually a Friday night, and in all honestly, I was feeling completely down about life, meaning and such, I think (hope) we all get that way sometimes. I really needed a reminder of who I was. As I was sitting at dinner, after a long day of actually being extremely upset about the meaning of life (dramatic Nicole), I went to check my phone. Most people would think this a mindless thing, but honestly to me it is sort of compulsive, I cannot stand little red notifications. They must be checked. So, I go to rid of the little red notification on my e-mail, expecting it to be a Pinterest e-mail of some sort, but that it was not. So, mid-poutine bite, I had gotten an acceptance letter to Queen's University.
I was ecstatic, never had I felt so free before. Dramatic as it sounds, I knew exactly where my meaning lay and it was along side English Lit and lovely tea in Kingston. But, fear not, I changed my mind about 18 more times.
That night I was on cloud nine, I was getting to do what I love! At my dream school! And I cried and cried happy tears of starting anew in this unforetold city (which I never had actually visited at this point).
Next morning, I woke up, half-groggy (it was like 8am), half excited, to a phone call from my one of best friends, Corina, who got her acceptance to Ryerson. So, obsessive-compulsive Nicole, went immediately to check her Ryerson status and sure enough, less than 24 hours since I got an acceptance from QU, there was my other dream, Ryerson English.
Now, I was torn. And the tears streamed down my face and I sat for the first time, attempting to make a truly life altering decision. You're probably laughing at how incredibly indecisive I am at this point and incredibly invested in this experience, but I have never felt so strongly about something. These two schools meant two totally different things to me, however, as they are actually polar opposites, so my decision was extremely hard. Here I was, with a contemporary, innovative, school that represents the New Era, and with another that held such grace in tradition, rich in history and prosperity.
Where did I fit in?
The question here was absolutely unanswerable without going to both campuses (I had already been to Ryerson 5 times but another visit was necessary). So, out me and my mother set, to both Ryerson and Queen's over march break.
We started in the city, Ryerson was absolutely bewitching. I had one of the worst fever's in the world, but here I was, falling in love all over again with the little nooks and crannies I had never discovered before. I could honestly talk about all the lovely things I witnessed there but this post would be much longer than it already is. All I can say to sum it all up is that there were various people, professors, buildings and sheer atmospheric characteristics that played into my growing affection for the establishment. But still, I sat more confused than ever.
The next morning, my mom and I set off to Kingston, and the car ride lasted for an eternity. The trip was essentially a bonding experience. When we got there, I want to say I was impressed, but only two aspects of the entire city caught my eye. The first one was the school, of course, because of the fact that it was a castle. It was beautiful, and it had the ability to make you feel like a princess in it. The second was the lake. Obviously, my tendency to love bodies of water played into that factor. But this was all just appearance, as the next day I really got to see what the school was like. The day progressed and I noticed how little I was able to fit in there. It had its positive qualities, and mark my words, I would be so lucky to attend school there, but it was not for me. The trees were old and I could completely see myself reading by the lake, but they lacked a passion for the sheer thrill of what it was I wanted to do and with that, I found myself daydreaming about the fall at Ryerson.
So, on the way home, I told my mom, it's Ryerson.
And now, I tell all you, darling readers, it's Ryerson.
I can't wait.
I narrowed it down by the time I applied, going back and forth between Queen's and Ryerson University for actually months. I had probably done thousands of virtual campus tours of the both and still been confused. Sometimes, I wanted to be in the city, the culture clashing around me vibrantly as I wrote myself a story of self invention. During others, I wanted to sit by a lake and reminisce over old Dickinson poems that drove me to believe in love and find it in everything I could. I told myself that acceptance letters would make my decision, when I had the two staring me back straight in the eyes I could tell you exactly which school my blonde haired, nose pierced, short self belonged. That however, was not the case.
It was actually a Friday night, and in all honestly, I was feeling completely down about life, meaning and such, I think (hope) we all get that way sometimes. I really needed a reminder of who I was. As I was sitting at dinner, after a long day of actually being extremely upset about the meaning of life (dramatic Nicole), I went to check my phone. Most people would think this a mindless thing, but honestly to me it is sort of compulsive, I cannot stand little red notifications. They must be checked. So, I go to rid of the little red notification on my e-mail, expecting it to be a Pinterest e-mail of some sort, but that it was not. So, mid-poutine bite, I had gotten an acceptance letter to Queen's University.
I was ecstatic, never had I felt so free before. Dramatic as it sounds, I knew exactly where my meaning lay and it was along side English Lit and lovely tea in Kingston. But, fear not, I changed my mind about 18 more times.
That night I was on cloud nine, I was getting to do what I love! At my dream school! And I cried and cried happy tears of starting anew in this unforetold city (which I never had actually visited at this point).
Next morning, I woke up, half-groggy (it was like 8am), half excited, to a phone call from my one of best friends, Corina, who got her acceptance to Ryerson. So, obsessive-compulsive Nicole, went immediately to check her Ryerson status and sure enough, less than 24 hours since I got an acceptance from QU, there was my other dream, Ryerson English.
Now, I was torn. And the tears streamed down my face and I sat for the first time, attempting to make a truly life altering decision. You're probably laughing at how incredibly indecisive I am at this point and incredibly invested in this experience, but I have never felt so strongly about something. These two schools meant two totally different things to me, however, as they are actually polar opposites, so my decision was extremely hard. Here I was, with a contemporary, innovative, school that represents the New Era, and with another that held such grace in tradition, rich in history and prosperity.
Where did I fit in?
The question here was absolutely unanswerable without going to both campuses (I had already been to Ryerson 5 times but another visit was necessary). So, out me and my mother set, to both Ryerson and Queen's over march break.
We started in the city, Ryerson was absolutely bewitching. I had one of the worst fever's in the world, but here I was, falling in love all over again with the little nooks and crannies I had never discovered before. I could honestly talk about all the lovely things I witnessed there but this post would be much longer than it already is. All I can say to sum it all up is that there were various people, professors, buildings and sheer atmospheric characteristics that played into my growing affection for the establishment. But still, I sat more confused than ever.
The next morning, my mom and I set off to Kingston, and the car ride lasted for an eternity. The trip was essentially a bonding experience. When we got there, I want to say I was impressed, but only two aspects of the entire city caught my eye. The first one was the school, of course, because of the fact that it was a castle. It was beautiful, and it had the ability to make you feel like a princess in it. The second was the lake. Obviously, my tendency to love bodies of water played into that factor. But this was all just appearance, as the next day I really got to see what the school was like. The day progressed and I noticed how little I was able to fit in there. It had its positive qualities, and mark my words, I would be so lucky to attend school there, but it was not for me. The trees were old and I could completely see myself reading by the lake, but they lacked a passion for the sheer thrill of what it was I wanted to do and with that, I found myself daydreaming about the fall at Ryerson.
So, on the way home, I told my mom, it's Ryerson.
And now, I tell all you, darling readers, it's Ryerson.
I can't wait.
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