It seems as though transferring to a new university as a bright-eyed undergraduate student would be a pretty important event in someone’s life… Important enough to remember with vivid clarity, I mean. Unfortunately, I don’t remember too much about transferring colleges.

Normally, I would blame this inability to remember on my shoddy memory. It has been an entire decade, after all. The problem with this excuse is that I have an impeccable memory—photographic even. And as if that wasn’t impressive enough, my selective memory is second to none. This may be a far, far more accurate reason as to why I no longer recall the early days studying at my alma mater. 😀

Eww. Did I just say “alma mater” as though I have a single shred of sentiment about the place? 

I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize. By no means am I trying to show any disdain for institutions of higher learning. School is cool and all of that awesomely cliché stuff. If you find yourself able to sidestep the sarcasm oozing from my pores, you may come to believe me when I say that I truly do love education.

Throughout my life I’ve always loved school, learning, reading… even homework. My family is chock full of educators; we are like our very own teacher’s association. So please, please understand me when I say that I have very few bones to pick with college itself.

To be honest, there was nothing wrong with my school. I simply never developed any warm and fuzzy feelings about the place like I would have expected. Sure, it wasn’t my preferred pick, but that’s how the chocolate chip cookie crumbled. It’s a bit of a long story (not to mention the furthest thing from interesting), but let’s just say that I chose the school out of desperation. 



Okay, maaaybe “desperation” is a bit extra of me (as ever), but it is kind of the truth! I had previously accepted admission to another university in the area, but a string of last minute administrative errors led to me missing the cutoff date for enrollment. At that point, I had to decide whether to wait until the next semester to enroll, or quickly accept admission somewhere else nearby. Eager to finish my degree ASAP, I begrudgingly chose the latter.

Was rushing to finish my degree at the cost of settling on a school the best choice ever? Ehhh… I’m still not sure. I personally think it’s best to stick with the top school of your choice (providing you get in), but hey, what do I know? If I had to do it all over again I would definitely wait out the semester. After all, I had already taken a semester off the year prior. But on the other hand, did I really want to be an entire year “behind”? Not particularly. 

I truly believe my desire to hurry up and graduate is a significant reason why I don’t recall much of my junior year. It had always been my intention to go on to grad school and possibly med school, so the whole undergrad experience wasn’t all that big of a deal to me. It was just the beginning of things for me, so I didn’t stress out too much about school as a whole… Does that make sense? I hope so.

Though I definitely took all of my coursework seriously and I cared a great deal about the grades I received, that’s all that mattered to me (academically speaking). Clubs, organizations, sports and campus affairs didn’t interest me in the least back then. If it didn’t directly impact my GPA, I couldn’t have cared less about it. I’m not saying that having this kind of attitude was right, it’s just how I viewed things at that time. 

Though I had valid reasons for not pursuing the “typical” student experience, I do wish I had partaken in traditional college life. Looking back, I regret having not spent more time on campus meeting new people. You know, opposed to me blowing in and out of class like an ocean breeze. Surprisingly, I wish I had joined a sorority as well. My college-aged self would be so appalled right now. According to her, I’d be what you’d call a “sell out”. Whatever lol.




For those who aren’t aware, I was a Psychology major. My concentration was in Clinical, and my minor was Criminal Justice. Needless to say, I had a strong passion for the study of criminal behavior and the mental health needs of offending populations. Overall, I couldn’t have picked a better field of study; I loved it so much. Junior year was when I got to trade in all of my general ed classes for the truly fun stuff. 

If you’re particularly curious about how I came to study Psychology, or you’d like the abridged version of my time in San Diego, I highly recommend you check out an older post. 🙂

Strangely enough, I didn’t have a hard time adjusting to the new school at all. I always felt very comfortable there, which I didn’t necessarily expect. Even though my transition to the school was quite sudden and unexpected, I had the best student advisor ever. She was the nicest chick in the world, and she made my entire transfer experience so pleasant.

In addition to this, the professors that I had at my transfer school were a lot more knowledgeable than those from my previous school (totally my own personal opinion). 

There was one professor in particular that I absolutely adored. Seriously, if I could have had him as a professor throughout my entire college career, I would have paid double the tuition. For one, he was young and super attractive (haha), which ensured that I almost always showed up to his classes (Had to grab that seat in the front row for a better view!) 

Aside from his gorgeous face (lol), the guy was just such a good teacher. He genuinely cared for his students and their futures. This particular professor had such a deep-rooted reverence for the field of psychology. Even though my other professors were really successful and had their fancy degrees, he lacked the pretentiousness that sometimes comes with all of that. You could tell that he wanted to do more to advance the field than sit behind a desk collecting a check. He was my favorite professor hands down.

Being new at school, I didn’t know a single soul on my first day. All the same, I was really friendly and outgoing in class, which was actually quite uncharacteristic for me. Beforehand, I had always been the type to silently sit in the back of the class, hoping someone would talk to me first (lol). I did a much better job initiating conversations once I transferred. I’m not sure why this was. Perhaps I was just happy to be in a new environment? Your guess is seriously as good as mine.




It didn’t take me long to form a little group of acquaintances whose members were in a good majority of my classes. For some reason, everyone in this said group was a transfer student like myself. While I would never claim that any of us became actual “friends”, we were very friendly with each other and would hang out outside of school. 

I’m not sure why I never bonded with any of them in a more meaningful way. Everyone was fun to spend time with and quite nice, but none of us bothered to keep in contact with each other after graduation. We all lived off-campus though (some quite far away), so we shared a certain degree of detachment from the usual college experience.

Thinking back, I got along well with everyone I met at school. 

Well, no, that’s not true. There was Claudia. 

Claudia was this short brunette (like myself) who somehow found her way into a handful of my classes. I don’t remember much about my third year of college, but I do remember her. Despite being new to the school, I was hardly welcomed with a complimentary fruit basket. Oh no… uh uh. I got Claudia.

From the very get go, Claudia was just downright spiteful and rude to me for no logical reason whatsoever. I know it may be hard to believe, but I kid you not— I never did a single thing to the girl. She was basically another Olga. It’s almost as though the mere sight of my face pissed her off (lol!). Unlike some of my acquaintances and myself, Claudia had attended the school from day one. Perhaps this is why she acted like such an intolerable know-it-all. 

From the very moment I first met this girl, she was like a rabid, frothy-mouthed dog going straight for my jugular. She was out for blood—mine. 



I remember being in one of my classes the first week or so, just trying to get to know people and get a feel for my surroundings. I forget the exact class now, but we would frequently break off into small discussion groups. For some irritating reason, Claudia would always end up in my group with some of her friends. Anyhow, we’d be there going over a case study and its corresponding questions, trying to come up with answers to present to the class. 

Now, you’ll never, ever hear me say that I’m a living prodigy, okay? I’m hardly the smartest person who ever walked the Earth, and I have no idea how to solve the world’s most complex problems. When it comes to comprehending the limitations of my own intellectual capabilities I am quite realistic. That being said, I’m far from dumb. 

I don’t know, you tell me: Do I seem short a crayon to you? Claudia sure seemed to think so! She acted as though I was as dumb as dirt. 

I’m talking… snail dumb. 

Amoeba dumb. 

Dumb. As. A. Rock.

Even until this very day, I will never understand why this girl was so intent upon trying to make me feel/believe that I was unintelligent. Every single time we would end up in a group together and I would share my answer, she’d start that same ole’ b.s. 

“NO! NO! That’s wrooooong! I didn’t get that for the answer, so you’re wroooong!” 

Meanwhile, I’m thinking…W (in) T (actual) F?! What is your ever loving problem?? Even if I was as stupid as a starfish, why are you doing all of that extra stuff? Just sit back and wait for me to find out how “unintelligent” I am when I stand up in front of the class to answer. 

So there’s Claudia… telling everyone how I apparently only have one brain cell floating in the space where my brain is supposed to be. Pfft! Well, every time she did that, my answers would turn out to be correct. Meanwhile, hers were always (and I do mean always) “wrooooooong”.

I would always lean over to look at her like, “What’s that you were saying about me being wrong?” Meanwhile, I’d be thinking:



Despite clearly having egg on her face, Claudia would never say a single word. She wouldn’t even apologize for acting like a nincompoop! Instead, she would just sit there with this ridiculous look on her face.

Maybe she was embarassed. Maybe she was mad. Maybe the burrito she had at lunch didn’t quite agree with her stomach. Who knows?? No matter what caused that constipated look on her face, I could always count on Claudia to be right back at it the next time we got into groups. 


I may not remember much from college, but it’s funny… I vaguely remember being just “dumb” enough to have graduated with honors. Just sayin’, Claudia. Juuust sayin’. 😀


What was your college experience like? Did you enjoy it or nah? Is there anything you would have done differently if you had known better? I’d love to hear what your college days were like, so please feel free to share down below. 
If you enjoyed this little blurb I’d greatly appreciate you giving it a like or sharing it with someone you think would also enjoy it.
Also, don’t forget to follow this blog for more stories and ramblings! Ciao for now! ❤



*Unless otherwise specified to be property of, all photos were sourced from Pexels.*
*All Gifs were sourced from Giphy.*

Written by nellsinaeternum

Just a girl lost in a daydream who is trying her best to color inside of the lines like everyone else, but is finding the act of smearing watercolor outside of the lines much, much more enjoyable.

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