Piles of 9 x 10 manila envelopes sit on my desk, their yellow shells printed with names and addresses of newspaper and magazine companies scattered across the U.S. Inside every envelope contains an internship application, cover letter, résumé, list of references, college transcripts, essays, and copies of my clips. I’ve chosen samples of my best work based on friends’ critiques. I check again to make sure my application is perfect. I ensure the directions are followed completely, the envelopes are addressed properly. I scan my cover letter and résumé for misspellings. I quadruple check everything for errors. One mistake could ruin my chances of getting experience as an intern. And not getting experience as an intern can hamper my chances of finding work in the competitive field of journalism.

There’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as I begin my search for more summer internships. I surf through numerous websites and pour over several books to discover that most deadlines have passed, though a few remain. My acceptance or rejection to these internship programs will determine my future. I have a sudden feeling of déjà vu: I remember spending winter break last year, searching for four-year universities to transfer to. I dreaded the whole application process. I feared stumbling over my words during admissions interviews. I feared rejection from teachers when requesting letters of recommendation. I feared my essays didn’t grab readers’ attention. I feared my résumé lacked experience. I feared my transcripts didn’t scream overachiever. Most of all, I feared none of the three schools I applied to would accept me.

While most of my friends settled for schools near their homes, or selected similar tropical destinations like California, I decided it would be best for me to explore unfamiliar territory. I chose schools located in Oregon, Illinois and the District of Columbia. After submitting my application packet, the one I transferred to was out of my hands; it was up to strangers in the admissions office to decide my fate. Would they accept or reject me? I decided to make it hard for them to reject me—I made my application error-free with the help of friends and library books. Hard work and the long wait paid off—I was accepted to all three private universities. I would finally pursue my dream of attending a four-year university elsewhere. Though it seemed financially difficult upon high school graduation, completing community college made it possible. I decided to attend Bradley University, which awarded me a $3,000 Transfer Scholarship and a $2,000 Provost-Garrett Scholarship. Its location in Illinois was just what I needed: a step out of my comfort zone and a step closer to being independent. Some friends supported my decision to attend school in the Midwest; others predicted I would drop out and return home to Hawaii after a semester.

And return I have, though only for a month of winter break. But leaving home has made me appreciate simple things I once took for granted. Like hot showers in clean bathtubs for instance, and warm breezes, relaxing walks on the beach, and satisfying home cooked meals. Yet, I remember why I left everything behind. I wanted to pursue my first—snowfall, four seasons, winter coat, roommate, time away from home. Friends in Illinois deemed me crazy for choosing the state’s fluctuating temperatures and unsightly manufacturing plants over my hometown’s warm weather and famous white sandy beaches. Sometimes, I thought I was crazy, too.

My winter break has been productive; I’ve spent most of my time working crazy 10-hour shifts every day. I treasure my time spent with family and friends. I’m also finishing the rest of my internship applications. Next year, I’ll begin my daunting task of hunting for work. Will I end up in California or New York? Who knows what the future holds for me. I’m just hoping for the best as I plan for the upcoming semester.