I used to dream about California.
I imagined palm trees swaying in the breeze, studio lots lined with trailers, the kind of sunsets that feel like movie scenes. For years, it was my go-to answer when people asked where I wanted to go to college: California. It felt aspirational, bold, and just far enough away to mean something. I thought it was where I’d find myself.
But around junior year of high school, the dream started to feel less exciting and more… intimidating. The idea of moving so far from home — of flying across the country and starting fresh in a place where I knew no one — suddenly didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like fear. So I played it safe. I stayed on the East Coast, choosing a college with strong media programs, a tight-knit community, and, most importantly, a path to Los Angeles if I ever changed my mind.
Spoiler: I did.
Even though I knew Ithaca College had the Ithaca College Los Angeles (ICLA) program, I didn’t seriously consider it once I got there. It felt like a nice option for other people – people with bigger budgets, more substantial confidence, and fewer anxieties about change. I kept pushing it aside, making excuses like, ‘It’s too expensive. I don’t want to leave campus. I still have so many classes I want to take. It’s too far.’ And quietly, I told myself something else too: that my chronic illness would make it too risky. Being far from home, from my doctors, and from everything familiar wasn’t realistic for me.
But deep down, I knew that wasn’t the reason. I wasn’t scared of being sick. I was scared of trying. I was scared of what it would mean to go after something that big, and what it would mean if I failed.
That changed when I didn’t get an internship the summer between sophomore and junior year.
Up until then, I’d convinced myself I was on track. But suddenly I wasn’t so sure. I was working in retail and watching my classmates post internships and career milestones on LinkedIn. It wasn’t jealousy. I feared falling behind in a field where momentum is everything.
One night, that December, sitting in a Wegmans parking lot in New Jersey, I finally decided to stop avoiding the ICLA cost sheet and just… open it. I had no idea what I was expecting – probably some unpayable number that would make me feel justified in letting the opportunity go.
Instead, I realized something that flipped the whole script: it cost basically the same as being on campus.
That moment shifted everything. Suddenly, it wasn’t about whether I could do ICLA. It was about whether I was ready to bet on myself enough to try.
And I was because I’d changed more than I realized.
In the past couple of years, I’ve grown in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve traveled to New York solo for Her Conference, gone to The Eras Tour and Gov Ball by myself, and signed up for opportunities that scared me – in the best way. I’ve learned to be independent. To show up for myself. To enjoy my own company and not wait around for someone else to say yes first. I used to be the kind of person who needed reassurance to do anything. Now, I trust myself to take the first step.
The ICLA application was more straightforward than I expected: a few short essays, a resume, and two recommendation letters—one from a professor and one from a supervisor. I thought I had started late, submitting in late January, but I was still on time. I decided right away that if I were to do this, it would be during the Fall of 2025. I wanted my final semester back at Ithaca — on campus with my friends, soaking in the last moments of senior year in the place where it all began.
I submitted and waited. I checked my email way too often. Then, in mid-February, the acceptance letter arrived. It was real. I was going to LA.
Now, it’s April, and everything is starting to feel real. I’m in the middle of internship applications, trying to find a placement that not only fulfills my credits but also excites me. I’ll be taking two classes based in LA but also staying connected to Ithaca through two asynchronous courses.
The structure of the semester is perfect. It’s complete but flexible. And it gives me space to immerse myself in everything LA has to offer.
Housing is one of the final pieces to figure out. Ithaca partners with Kapi Housing, and most students live in either AVA Burbank or AVA Toluca Hills. I’m leaning toward Toluca Hills – it overlooks Universal Studios, and the thought of waking up with that view still feels surreal. (Twelve-year-old me would lose her mind!)
I’m going out there alone. None of my close friends are going that semester. And while that’s definitely intimidating, it’s also something I’m more than ready for. ICLA may not have always been the plan, but it’s the first step toward my future.