Sunday, 9 January 2011

So I shan't be going to Cambridge Uni in September...

... but it's OK. I am not going to die in a hole screaming that my life is over. I figured some people might have thought that was the reason for my lack of blogging over the past few days - I've just been being a busy little bee, sorry!

I have to admit that I was extremely nervous at the beginning of last week, as I knew the letter would be arriving soon. After some Twitter researching (ahh how I love Twitter!), the word on the street seemed to be that everyone would get their letters on Thursday 6th December. Needless to say I pretty much did not sleep a wink on Wednesday night. I'm one of those people who just absolutely hates the "not knowing" period, as I just over-think things and get myself wound up into a frenzy, so had asked my parents to let me know ASAP when the letter arrived (I was at school, you see).

I'd been very nervous all Thursday morning, never stopping looking at my phone, and excitedly reading people's tweets about finding out their fates. It was lunch break, and I'd taken off my patent, pixie-style Office heels as I was about to get changed for netball. Then, I got the text from my father: "Letter is here".

All I could say was "Shit" (which I'm not proud of, as I hate swearing and very very rarely do it). So I slipped on my trainers (which looked ridiculous with my H&M bargain of a suit), dialled home, and ran outside. I asked Dad what size the envelope was - small, thin. "Oh no..." thought I. I asked him to open it, and I swear those paper rustling noises went on for an age.

Anyway, I'm not going to recount our whole conversation, but the long and the short of it is that I've not been offered a place, unfortunately. I have to admit that I was more overwhelmed than I thought I would be, and couldn't help but burst into tears. Sure, I was disappointed, but I think half of the reason for my emotional outburst was because there'd been such a massive build up and suddenly it was all over. The whole process is really emotionally exhausting, and the past year of my life had basically been leading up to that moment. I'm not going to lie, I really wanted to get in.

A few days on and I'm feeling much better, although it has been difficult at times seeing people get their offers, having to tell everyone, and hearing them tell me how they're astounded and thought I really deserved to and should've been offered a place.

But the way I see it now is: Oxford and Cambridge know what they're looking for, and who's the right fit for them. So if that's not me, then fine - that's probably what's best for me (and them). I truly believe that everything happens for a reason, and when a door closes, two windows will open. I'm very ambitious, and not being at the top (so to speak) is hard for me. But there aren't enough Oxbridge grads out there to take all the top positions in the world, so I'm determined not to let this hold me back in the slightest.

Another upside to this outcome was offered by my Mum: I'm the type of girl who likes to get involved with everything (drama, journalism, sport, choir etc), and joining loads of societies is one of the things I'm most looking forward to about Uni. But at Oxbridge, the terms are so short and so intense, that I would hardly have time for anything else apart from academic work. So there are pros among the obvious cons. If I really wanted to, I could also reapply next year...

But for now, I've got an English exam tomorrow, so must dash for some last minute cramming! Well done to anyone who has been offered a place, and I'd love to hear about anyone's outcomes to the whole process.

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