In the fall of 2014, I came to Wofford College with every intention of achieving that golden ticket to medical school. In other words, I was a rare breed of Wofford freshman (she says with sarcasm). I hopped aboard the Biology train and set full speed ahead. My mindset was unshakable. I was driven -- driven like Herbie Fully Loaded. There was no stopping this Volkswagen Beetle, no siree Bob. I worked harder than I ever thought I would, made solid B's and C's and cried at least three times a week. Regardless of my tears, I still relished Biology. It was difficult because, although Biology was where my heart lied, my brain did not lie in the same bed (in all fairness, my brain had requested a divorce, but my heart refused to sign the papers). In the spring of 2015, despite my struggles, I remained in Biology. I took Genetics thinking I could turn things around, and then my first exam tryingly squealed, "Ha, yea! You thought!" That test slapped me so hard, I swear I momentarily saw the face of God. In the fall of 2015, I decided to take a leap of faith (Hal-le-lu-jah). I have always loved writing, so I thought, "Why the hell not?" Well, I found a happy home for my heart and head in a sappy sonnet that gave me all the feels. English won me over. I took some Art. I took some Philosophy. (I tried out Chemistry, but there was no chemistry there.) I loved everything. I happily waved good-bye-yo to bio. In the Spring of 2016, I declared an English major with no career path in mind. My line of B's became a little more diverse. A few more A's popped up in there. I was dabbling in a variety of things and putting my spontaneity into practice. I was a true academic stunt devil.

Now, in the fall of 2016, I sit here in front of this screen as an undecided junior. I apologize for the anticlimactic feel to the story. It is unfortunate, but I still feel successful because success is something I want and I am determined to experience as much as I can before I get kicked out of the college world and into the career field. My life has consisted of countless occasions in which the world has laughed in my face, mockingly cawing, "Ha! You thought!" However, I would not wish to have it any other way. Allow me to further elucidate by referencing a personal example provided by an extremely close friend of mine who is absolutely not me at all.

Once upon a time, there was a formal gown that was worn to senior prom by my younger me. Oh, and I assure you she wore that gown like a queen does her crown. She was the Belle of the ball and I say this with no absence of bias. A competitive soccer player, she modeled quite the impressive physique. The gown fit like a glove. She wore it proudly and, to this day, she swears that boys were snapping their necks left and right trying to catch glimpses of her illuminating beauty (again, no absence of bias here). Anyway, she enjoyed the evening and, after the night was through, she saw that the dress was still in relatively good condition (unlike her dignity). So, she decided to stow it away with the intention of wearing it again one day in the future. Several months later, the one day came along during her first year of college -- a formal event for her sorority -- and younger me pulled the ol' gown out of its cedar chest. I remember the moment so vividly. You see, I was one of those freshman. One of the ones who reached for the pizza instead of the salad. One of the ones who reached for the beer rather than the water. One of the ones who cursed the stairs and took the elevator. In other words, my weight had escaped me and I had not noticed. So, with hopes of the vision I had achieved once before, younger me stepped into the gown and began zipping. Zip -- woah there. Zip -- ugh! Zip -- uh oh. She desperately called to her friend. "Please zip me up." The heroic friend swooped to her rescue, but to no avail. When the battle was lost to that horrid little zipper, the friend let out a sigh and I knew it was over. I said, "How could this happen? I thought for sure it would fit." As younger me looked disappointedly into the mirror, I swear her reflection teasingly muttered, "Ha! You thought!"

There really is no grand point to the second story, although it is a "You thought!" experience. I found it humorous, so I included it. I was hoping it would tie more into my main point, but similarly to the prediction of fitting into my dress, I was wrong. The moral to my words is more present in the first story. Warning: I am about to attempt to give you advice. I may be unsure of a lot right now, but because of my ordeal with Biology, I can now say that I have experienced and fallen in love with such a wide variety of things that I would have never been able to touch on had I not taken that leap of faith. When you get kicked off of the path you are on, instead of immediately trying to regain your footing in that same old path, consider grounding yourself in a new one. Experience is everything.

Side note: The dress zips more now.