All too frequently we make fun of people for having a whinge about their "problems"that stem from otherwise pretty good circumstances. Well, this post is unashamedly all about my mother of a #firstworldproblem: getting accepted into The University of Cambridge.
At the impressionable age of fourteen I went on a family holiday around Europe. One of our stops was Cambridge and I was instantly in love with the beautiful grounds, gorgeous river and historic colleges. At the age of 18 I returned to Cambridge for yet another visit which only rekindled the romance. So, not being a girl that believes in playing hard to get, this year I introduced myself to the prestigious University and applied to study there. Admittedly I didn't actually believe I would get in, so it was a huge surprise to receive the invitation to go for an interview. One thing lead to another (as they often do in romance tales) and last week I received my acceptance letter...well, email into the Masters of Education and Psychology.
It all sounds peachy keen except that there were a few details I had grossly misunderstood. Firstly, I believed that on my British passport I would be eligible to pay local fees rather than international fees. This is in fact incorrect and I would have to have lived in the UK for three years to be able to claim that I am a local student. Secondly, I hadn't factored in that taking the place would mean giving up my place in a Masters course at home, a risk that could result in losing my spot in a course that will allow me to practice as a psychologist while the Cambridge degree is purely course work and research.
Looking back I think I was blinded by the romance of the place and believed that if, on the very off chance, I got in it would all work itself out somehow. Well, now that 'off chance' is reality and I'm left with a pretty large decision to make. If I close my eyes I can imagine an intersection with three possible ways that I can travel. To the left, I can go to Cambridge and spend a lot of time and money on something that would be purely for the experience and my ego (a fantastic option if money grew on trees), straight ahead I can stay in London for another 18 months and continue 'playing' granted I get permission from Uni, or to the right I can go home to Australia in February and decide to be an adult by starting my Masters and in turn, my career.
I'm not going to lie, I'm utterly petrified of making the wrong decision. It breaks my heart every time I tell people I don't think I'm going to take the Cambridge offer because the circumstances aren't right. Like a love struck stalker I made the mistake of Googling the college I got accepted into only to pine after how stunning it is (it was St Catherine's by the way). I suppose every good love story is about timing though. I know that now is probably the best time to galavant around Europe and frequent London pubs, as I'm still young enough to enjoy it without the pressures of life. Perhaps in the future the timing will be better for me to get stuck into academia and I can reintroduce myself to Cambridge. For now I just have to take comfort in the fact that I can officially say I'm smarter than I look!
No comments:
Post a Comment