Ah, college, the epitome of the American experience. Young people are willing to sell their souls to take part in this tradition. But I have begun it and found it wanting, a facade in all honesty. I feel as though I am on an old television set, the fronts of the buildings are beautiful but they are simply that, fronts. Like the ideal of the perfect American small town, the college experience with its quirky professors, its red brick buildings, and Saturday night ball games, is somewhat a fantasy born of a previous era.
Surrounded by thousands and yet utterly alone, the extrovert has found herself relinquishing to the solitude of her dorm and a cup of rather watery peppermint tea. While you may say my critique is rather one-dimensional and that I have simply chosen the wrong college, I must say, in some way, we have all found our collegiate experiences lacking. The story book expectations lowered to the depths of reality. And it is in this deep melancholy that I find the truth about college; college isn’t a factory-made exportation into adulthood, it is a road filled with experiences that one must fill in by themselves. Like the back lot, it is empty until life is breathed in to it and the emptiness behind the beautiful fronts is filled, partly with imagination and partly with hard work. Do not be fooled, the perfect experience simply does not exist, you will face disappointment. Breathe life into the back lot.