Two Weeks Left in the Big Apple: What I Have to Share

As most of you already know, I’ve made the official decision to leave NYU. If you’re interested in logistics and information, please visit the video in which I made the announcement here. I hope it’ll answer any questions you might have.

In addition to what I’ve shared in the video, I have some new ideas to share with you in regards to the future of Misadventures.

I’ve already told most of you that the name will change from “Misadventures in the Big Apple: Small Town Girl in NYC” to “Misadventures in the Mitten: No Place Like Home”. I’ll also be giving the About and Howell pages a face-lift, as well as the theme.

Other than that, the format won’t really change. I’ll continue to share my misadventures with my followers, even during the summer. You can probably expect one of two posts each week, like you’ve been getting recently. You’ll notice a change of scene. Probably more pictures of bonfires, countryside, band concerts, and cooking excursions. Once school starts in the fall, you’ll be seeing class-related posts.

I’m also going to focus on writing a little more often about topics that I enjoy writing about, such as entertainment, politics, and current events. Prepare for some controversial viewpoints and some interesting posts. I’m getting ready to start sharing my thoughts about the world with all of you. I started this morning, with my post about “overprotective” parents. I hope to continue that.

As always, I want to thank all of you for your kindness and understanding. I have yet to hear a single rude comment about my transfer, or my decision to apply to MSU over U of M for their journalism program. Most of those who donated to my housing fund are willing to let me keep that money for the car that I’ll desperately need to commute back and forth to school. And nearly everyone has found something positive to say. I appreciate that more than you know.

We’re winding down for the year here in Manhattan. I have two weeks of classes left (technically four days of classes after today is said and done, and five days of work). Austin is coming to pick me up the weekend of the 15th, and I’ll finally have company on the bus ride home (cross your fingers that everything fits in two suitcases!). I’m studying ruthlessly for my two politics finals, and praying that the credits will count at MSU. If not, I took two extremely difficult classes for nothing this semester.

I went home last weekend to see my family in Peter Pan. And, not to shamelessly plug for the show, but if you live in the Livingston County area, you should definitely check it out. My dad plays Smee, my mother and sister are the light crew, and my brother plays Nana the dog and a pirate (don’t ask me how he does both). I’m extremely proud of them for how all of their hard work has paid off. It was definitely worth the ride home.

Other than that, I’m waiting for a response from MSU’s admissions office and getting ready for my final trek home. I’ve been told that I’ll know before June. Cross your fingers for me.

Love Always,

Cassie

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A Letter To My “Overprotective” Parents

Dear Mom and Dad,

In elementary school, you were the parents who wouldn’t let me watch Spongebob Squarepants. Instead, you insisted that I read a book, explore the outdoors, or learn to play an instrument. I didn’t know who Patrick Star and Sandy Cheeks were until after Dad had decided the show was too funny not to watch.

You were the parents who wanted to watch the Teen Nick shows before I did, dreading the day when I would begin attaching myself to Degrassi. You screened Drake and Josh, Zoey 101, and Hannah Montana. I never understand what the big deal was, even after Jamie Lynn Spears got pregnant and quit Zoey 101 to be a mother at the age of 16.

In fact, by the time I hit middle school, grounding me was nearly impossible. The only people you could really blame for it were yourselves. After all, it was because of you two that I avoided video games and television shows and focused on writing and reading. And you couldn’t exactly take that away.

You were the parents who forbade me from going to a new friend’s house unless you’d met their parents first. Until high school, I rarely planned my own “play dates”. You wanted to know where I would be, and when I would be there. You wanted to know who was bringing me home. You wanted to know that an adult would be home. I would rant and rave that no one else’s parents cared that much. I was angry that you didn’t trust me. But you enforced it anyway.

You were the parents who never made college an option. College was an accepted part of my life. I never questioned or doubted it. I never stopped to think that there might be another realistic option for my future, because I never doubted you. You’d begun to build that trust in me. While many of my peers graduated and started their first real jobs, I enrolled at a university and began studying all over again.

You were the parents who never had to tell me not to drink or smoke in high school, because my biggest fear was disappointing you. You were the silent, unimposing reason why I never attended an underage drinking party. You were the invisible shield that kept me away from cigarettes and drugs. I never tried them. The way I grew up, it was never an option. You were the reason I never fully felt like I fit in.

You were the parents who made dorming at a university impossible for me because I realized how different you were from other parents. I didn’t come here with a fake ID. I didn’t buy one. I didn’t think it was an option. You had instilled that moral in me. I can’t reverse that any more than I can reverse the color of my skin.

You were the parents who comforted me when I came home ranting about my friends and the huge mistakes they were making. You became my friends and my allies when I became old enough to understand how lucky I was to be free from addiction, DUI’s, prior records, and bad grades. Because of you, I started my life with a clean slate.

You are the parents that teenagers abhor. The parents who require their grown offspring living at home to be back by a curfew, to share their whereabouts, and to help out with the housework. You are the parents that gave the other kids a reason to make fun of me and antagonize me for not being able to be spontaneous. For always saying, “Hold on, let me text my parents first.”

You are the parents that grown children appreciate. You are the parents that had my back when I started controversy, who trusted me because I’d never given them a reason not to do so, who supported me even when I had to make difficult decisions. You are the parents who became my friends.

You are the “overprotective” parents. But let me tell you something else.

You are my parents. And I am proud to say that I was one of the lucky few to be “overprotected”.

-Your Daughter