I consider success to be solely independently determined. I decline to base my collegiate achievement on my grades, but rather through the amount of effort I employ instead, and I intend to do my utmost to succeed.
Previously, before my admission to *, I spent two terms at a residential university, *, and promptly found myself on academic probation. Not from an intellectual inaptitude no, more to an egotistical and motivational degree, moreover, I still had the mentality of a child. How difficult it is to acknowledge something you've invariably had, and I had always been capable, or so I thought. You see, thirteen years of never once selecting a pen and paper for notes or studying a book opting instead for self musing or classroom diversions must take its toll and pay I did.
Dropped off at my new dormitories repeatedly questioned if I was worried, my feelings about leaving home, and this whole new experience awaiting me to which my response could only be indifference; I wasn't yet capable of recognizing those feelings within myself. So when I arrived, there was no route for me to take but to proceed as I always had; your path is singular when you have no purpose and not a hint of an idea as to why you're there.
In my classes, if I graced them with my presence, I slept or played around; perhaps I got away with these routines in high school, but in college, it wasn't enough to subsist. I wasn't supporting myself. I suppose they're called patterns because they repeat themselves and repeat they did, my behavior remained static; I became a walking mass of confusion who refused to acknowledge itself. Suffice to say this was not healthy behavior, I left the university, and at that juncture, I gained nothing from my experience save a pile of debt and a school spirit t-shirt.
I undertook a psychosocial moratorium. I became surprisingly effective, discovering a multitude of solutions for life without a degree. Yet I never once asked myself what it was I desired; it was all conditioned off of ridiculous notions. The best I ever felt about my ideas was, "That's something I could deal with." On my parent's suggestion, I secured a stint as a summer camp counselor, and while working there, for the first time in my life, I had ambitions. I aspired to become a summer camp director, graciously living in the service of others. I began to reflect and behave in emotional terms with empathy, a stark contrast from my days of cold logic, and machiavellian-esque thinking.
Upon completion of the summer, I obtained a post as an outdoor education instructor; while there, I discerned the folly of chasing joy. The necessity of having a career that fascinates you became glaringly obvious. I raised myself a proposition "what do I want to do," a simple question that can only have a complicated answer. Introspection occurred, and research commenced. An intricate process, but subsequently, morals manifested and cultivated a set of principles. A transformation transpired; my arrogance abated as I profoundly transitioned from juvenile to one worthy of respect. My conclusion was one I could never have predicted; I was to continue my studies only this time at * and armed with ambition and a desire to succeed.