A little over a week ago I found out I hadn't got into Oxford. It really has been a week of a whirlwind of emotions, at the start of which I originally decided not to write a post on the subject, but after reading some fab posts of people going through the same as me, and realising that I always find it so helpful to write (or in my case, type), out my emotions and thoughts so that everything makes sense, I ended up being sat here writing one now.
Applying to study History at Oxford became one of the biggest parts of my life the past at least six months or so, and as a result of that, it felt relieving that the process was all over, but, although I am glad that I've gone through it all to know what the result would be, it also felt really anti-climatic. But I tweeted not long after I found out that I wasn't as sad as I expected, and it was true at the time. For the first few hours after finding out, I didn't think at all about what I had lost by not getting into Oxford. I concentrated on my back-up, UCL, and what I was gaining by now being able to study there.
Of course, it all dawned on me eventually, but what I have realised is that more so than not getting to study at Oxford (a place that I totally loved), what upset me more was getting the 'no' itself. Knowing that I was more than willing to put the work in, and it was just how the interview went - and not even that, loads of politcal jargon that determine who gets in or not - was what it all boiled down to. I really wanted to have something to say 'see, I can do it', to show that I can succeed. But I learnt that Oxbridge does not define success. It was a dream, true, but definitely not the 'be all and end all'.
As it happens, I had another dream, another life that I really was torn between. Even a couple of days before I found out, I wrote down in my 'uni planning journal' that I actually wasn't sure what I wanted the result to be. Even if I had got into Oxford, it would have been a bittersweet experience, because I still would have been letting go to another dream. Studying at Oxford for three years was one dream, but another was studying at UCL, living in London, getting work experience in the field I really want to go into and getting my foot in the door of a career of my dreams.
As I told myself in the art lesson following finding out, I was now going to UCL, with so many amazing aspects going for it - my favourite history course, the fact it was the first ever English university to accept women, it was the university that Coldplay attended and were formed at (this totally wasn't a reason for me looking at it or anything...), and as I mentioned above, the fact I am going to be able to gain experience in the industry I want to work in being in London which is amazing. I am also super excited to live in London and explore the city; being from up north I don't visit very often right now!
I am really glad that I went through the whole Oxbridge process, not just for the fact that I will never live my life with a huge 'what if' clouding over it. Reading more history books and getting more enthusiastic for my subject that I wouldn't have otherwise, going through the interview process, which was one of the best weeks of my life, including meeting Eleanor and having a much needed mini-holiday from college and the drama that comes with it.
But everything does happen for a reason - I am a firm believer of that. Having come out of the initial disappointment, I am taking it positively. For so many months I have never been able to see past my A-Levels, never known where I am going next, but I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel which has really motivated to work to my absolute best on these exams. UCL may have the same entry requirements as Oxford, but now I can see where I am heading I am even more motivated than ever to get these three As.
September 2019 - London bound I shall be (I really hope I am not jinxing getting the 3 As now...)
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