Cars, college, the coronavirus made up the illusion of my autonomy
I’m gonna be self-indulgent. But in a way that I hope is meaningful for those other than myself.
The end is here. I’m writing this piece in the penultimate week of my final semester of undergrad. As a transfer student whose start at USC was in Fall 2020, each semester of college has felt a little different. Much has changed over the course of my college career, from the country I first started college in to the educational experience as a whole.
I’ve always been quite observational, with a strong ability for drawing through-lines. I find my means of transportation a good comparison to how I’m feeling right now. This semester marked the first time I’ve had a car while at USC. In previous semesters, I always lamented over what I would do with a vehicle, how much freedom it would give me. I have a running list of all the places I have yet to go, restaurants I’ve yet to try, parts of California I’m dying to explore.
Yet now, I find myself returning to the same places again and again. The same restaurants, the grocery store and sometimes, the same beach. This might make sense, as I’ve always been told I’m a creature of habit — much like my mother. Perhaps it’s due to anxiety — at its bare bones, it is the fear of what we cannot control. Structure and familiarity gives oneself the illusion of autonomous command that in reality we so deeply lack. Los Angeles County is supposedly my oyster, but my feet stay firmly planted in the same five places. It seems I often find myself trapped in a mental barrier of my own creation.
I feel this is quite similar to the prospect of graduating. As I graduate from one of the most prestigious universities in the country, armed with a communications degree that colloquially is said to allow you to pursue a variety of career paths, I find myself simultaneously frozen. Perhaps it’s a fear of moving on — a simple pause while I transition to this next chapter of life and apply for jobs. Perhaps it’s okay to graduate and not quite know what the hell I want to do with my life. But, while grappling with all of it, I find myself stuck, situated, unsure what my next move will or should be.
I feel maybe, kind of, done with college. I’m definitely done with USC’s drinking culture. I don’t want to do homework anymore. Yet still, I don’t feel done yet. I feel that I somewhat lack a tether to USC as a whole. Since I transferred in during the pandemic, there was no tangible shift to being a USC student. After a year of YouTube school out of the dull lit bedroom of University Gateway, I showed up one day and that was the beginning of junior year. Junior year felt like freshman year, and now that I finally feel like I’ve found my footing, it’s all coming to an end.
I don’t want to put words into people’s mouths, but I feel as though most of this year’s graduates can relate; a sense of grief for what was lost and what will never be again. We’ve been unable to experience the college we worked so hard for, with all its resources and interpersonal connection that, when shrouded by a screen or a mask, does not feel the same. Change is terrifying no matter when and how it happens, but my coming change feels greater when paired with what could have been. This final year is the sole one with complete normalcy — and there won’t be another.
I wouldn’t change any of the choices I made. Studying abroad gave me some of my closest friends, with many of whom I still live. Two of my randomly assigned roommates in Paris — all of us on the track to USC promised by the Trojan Transfer Plan — are now my roommates of all four years. It also served to give me a strong sense of independence. Yet still, I wonder what, if anything, would have changed if college was not severed, splintered by the pandemic. If our ability for complete normalcy and autonomy was able to be developed as it should have.
As I (direly) approach graduation, I feel pleased with what I have done, accomplished, experienced and who I have become. Hopefully, with the world now my oyster, I won’t close in on myself. I have faith, but as I’ve already said, we can’t quite control what becomes of us or our lives. Complete and utter autonomy doesn’t quite exist, but there’s power in accepting that sometimes only time will tell. Hopefully, I’m getting there.