I cannot change my heritage, or my suburban, middle-class upbringing. I have no cultural story to tell, and my complexion blends in with that of my peers. The only thing “unique” I have going for me? My name. Nope, not Marian. Mary Ann? Nah, only one word. Mern? What? Mary? I believe I have an “n” at the end of my name. Marie- ERIN WITH AN M. That usually sticks pretty well with people, I have learned. As does the twenty second guess-and-check that lasts longer than it should. Still, I want my future classmates to know me as more than “Erin with an M.” When I pack my U-Haul next autumn with a mini fridge, comforters, towel turbans, and everything else Bed Bath and Beyond has to offer, I will pack with it my personality and the morals my parents have instilled in me. However, I will leave behind eighteen years of history, and what makes me, me. My reputation will wait at the doorstep - whatever it may say. Good student, pianist, tennis player, youngest of four, Friday Night Lights (the show) addict, yearbook Editor, the list goes on an on. All of those things have shaped my personality, but the thousands of other students who arrive with their U-Hauls on move-in-day will not know that. Time to burst the bubble, and well, enter a new one. College represents something that will only roll around a few times within our lifetime: a fresh start. Not that I plan to leave Chagrin with dirty hands, but I believe everyone can appreciate a clean canvas. Not necessarily to recreate yourself, but to become the person you have always envisioned. How do I want others to perceive myself at college? Good question. Honestly, I wish I had an answer. I guess my main concern lies with people viewing me as, well, odd. My stereotypical appearance and honorable social skills can only fool others for so long. Common catchphrases of mine, including “that’s soooo Ashtabula” (so what?), “Oh my gosh, Franks” (Frank who?), and ALLright (said with a subtle squeak) will most likely have potential friends run in the opposite direction. So will my Instagram account that pictures solely my cat, and my food fetish for Greek yogurt. My personality lies at all ends of spectrum, as both the loud extrovert, reserved introvert, and occasional happy medium. No matter how others perceive me, I just look forward to finding myself outside the bubble, and away from the security of my reputation. Time to brace myself for a thrilling, four years of self-discovery and name-pronounciation clarifiers.
I dread the encounters with people, too, as they attempt to pronounce "Gielink" seven times before they give up. In first grade, the secretary from the front office called me, over the loudspeaker, "Celene Gay-Link." My friends at dance called me Gaelic, because it seemed appropriately foreign, and appeared close enough to the actual pronunciation. I hope the odds prove better for me in college. I wish you the very best of luck as you navigate many first encounters in your future.
ReplyDeleteI, too, understand your name trauma as I constantly have to emphasize that Roo is not my real name whenever my friends introduce me to someone. I also associate with your unknown feelings of how you want you future classmates to view you. Though my blog stated I seek to remain mostly the same, this decision proved more of a "I got nothing else" idea. However, I look forward to shaping this improved me during the next four years.
ReplyDeleteI can totally relate to your worries about thinking we have weird personalities. But I have come to the conclusion that we all believe we possess these strange quirks, and I think that it makes us who we are. You make me laugh every single time you say, "ALLLLRIGHTTT" and lick your fingers to put out your static ridden hair. I think the little quirks you possess will actually make people more attracted to become your friend, because you're fun and different. I feel like I'm giving a pep-talk, but you know what I mean. You're a great girl and will thrive wherever you end up next year! Good work!
ReplyDelete