I haven't legitimately written in a while because I've had a sort of writer's anxiety. I'd say it parallels the sort of anxiety where there's something you may enjoy but the longer you don't do it the more inclined you are to not do it. I've been through various bouts of this in my life; I've amassed a variety of to-do's in my time including contacting old friends, writing papers, making elaborate plans, and most recently the process of show-going. Tonight as I was speaking on the topic of joy with (my wonderful friend) Ben I realized how much my heart aches for live music and the adventures it usually entails. When I chose to attend George Mason University full time, live in Fairfax, and not own a car I basically chose to give up that part of my life. I broke up with Adventure and so there's nothing meaningful to write about; everything bookish seems usless and quite honestly, the Things Which I Am Supposed To Learn seem like nothing more than act aimmed to please those I'm paying to give me a piece of paper that validates me to work a job that pays more than eight bucks an hour and provides me with much-needed health insurance.
This is the beginning of my second semester. Last semester, I took fifteen credit hours and got perfect grades. I was encouraged by the praise of others and the way my grades looks on a computer screen so I registered for seventeen credit hours this go'round. Here is the breakdown of those credits:
14 credits - If I complete all of the work (on time with a reasonable amount of thought put into it), I will most likely get an A.
5 credits - Experiential Learning.
I won't call the fourteen credits easy but I will say that structure is comfortable; I like knowing what I'm getting into. I am actually good at reading books, taking notes, and filling in bubbles on Scantron sheets. I'm also a decent researcher and essay writer (except for the times when I feel the need for honesty and self-expression). Ignoring the usual assumed frustrations with unprepared or un-knowledgeable professors, I'm just going to say that I have fourteen credits squared away. I know what they are and I know how to get them. They're attainable in the fact that they're not the least bit mysterious to me.
Experiential Learning is what you get when you sign up for New Century College. I have a certain amount of skepticism about the program as I do with most everything I get involved with but I honestly can't knock it yet; I made a promise to myself that I would graduate in two years and if I'm able to do that I will gladly eat any negative words I may have spit out and offer up one of those cheesy little testimonial blurbs for them to slap on their website. "If I got through it without quitting, then this program must be MAGIC!" Next to my quote, there would be a photograph of me in my cap and gown giving the thumbs up sign.
Experiential Learning is theoretically amazing. The intentions behind it are warm and fuzzy; I get to learn what I want by actually doing it. If I were living in a city, this would perhaps be the greatest thing ever; if I were still in Philly I could get credit for interning at Philebrity, taking photos at Johnny Brenda's, writing blog posts for GPTMC, and about a million other desirable "hip" sorts of things that would leave me feeling connected to a culture I enjoy. Instead I am given a few weeks to partake in this mad scramble to find volunteer work within walking distance of the school. Fairfax could be a haven for suburban community do-gooders but for an adventurer like me, it's grounds for depression.
There are not enough hours in my day for a commute to Arlington or DC via bus and Metro. I'm also somewhat skeptical about showing up on NPR's doorstep and offering to work for free; somehow I just don't see them going for that. Even if I took the time to fill out forms and get in there for an interview I just imagine these people being appalled at my shoes and offended by the things I value. I've also got to think about money. The Metro costs money and I wouldn't be getting paid to do this work most likely. Uggh. Even a free bus ride wouldn't really be beneficial to my schedule so I've limited my school year Experiential Learning to walking distance for the sake of practicality.
Five credits. Five credits which are a work-in-progress. Five credits which I have spent the past few weeks panicking about.
Three of those credits were originally supposed to go to learning to operate remote broadcasting equipment for WGMU but I decided to nix that idea as I felt that the kids involved with the station were not really fostering a sense of community which I felt was an integral part of college radio. I am still disappointed because radio is something I actually want to learn but confident that I made the correct choice because those people would have just made my blood boil.
At the suggestion of Janette Muir, I spoke with Sarah Sweetman concerning a marketing/public relations internship to promote New Century College instead of this WGMU business. I filled out the paperwork and squared this away but am currently terrified because I've already started off on the wrong foot. These few paragraphs have probably already indicated that I am a skeptical control freak; when I don't know what's going on, I think the worst and freak out. Sarah had given me few details about what was going on because she didn't have them; she said this thing would start at the beginning of the semester sometime. The semester began and when I heard nothing, I emailed her. After a week of no response, I was freaking out about this daily. You see, these credits are attached to hours. 45 of them per credit. I know from last semester that hours are like a ticking time bomb; thinking about these hours invokes the same feeling of anxiety as waking up ten minutes early and counting down the time on my alarm clock when I'll hear an obnoxious loud noise. I want to start these hours now so I can stop looking at the clock and worrying.
I emailed again. I freaked out. I got a quick response that time. Oh, boy; the response criticized my tone and confirmed my suspicions that I am the least professional person on this planet and am probably not actually fit for jobs that pay more than eight dollars per hour. I haven't even started the job but I already offended my supervisor and I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Nice.
The worst part was the urge I had to retaliate; I wanted to write back and explain that I definitely don't recall being told anything about starting in February because if I had that knowledge then I obviously wouldn't have continued to send emails or bug my advisor about it. I would have also said something about answering emails; not answering emails is (forgive me for writing this in comparison to academic affairs) Stupid Boy Stuff. If I want to worry about communication issues, I will dwell on Ben not answering my phone calls for two weeks or the wonderful world of internet dating. (I guess I could have said unprofessional and given a more relevant example but Stupid Boy Stuff is currently on the brain.)
Of course, I felt like an ass. I felt guilty. I wanted to sink into the ground and not do this thing.....but then I thought of The Prize; The Piece Of Paper. Two Years. More Than Eight Dollars Per Hour. Health Insurance. Those things are obtained by humility. They're not supposed to be easy to get. I emailed back with a short apology but then realized that in the end, the email was at least effective. Though she was mad, she told me that whatever I'd be doing wouldn't start until sometime in February. The patient email I had written didn't elicit a response but the one where I was freaking out did. Did I actually learn Things Which I Am Supposed To Learn from this...? It hasn't even started yet but I'm already confused.
Last week I was given the task of finding a nonprofit business to share my talents with (in the form of 40 hours of service). My immediate response was to structure the thing in one fell swoop over spring break in an effort to lighten my weekly load and also make it so I could learn something the way I prefer to learn -- adventure style. I thought of the weeks I had spent at Pop Montreal and Popped Philly. I dreamed of SXSW. I realistically thought of a mission trip with Lutheran Campus Ministry. My bubble was immediately burst and my parade promptly rained on. Weekly work was required in order for weekly journal entries to be made. Great. Could I tack this into the question mark of an internship I was already tied to...?
Last week's Wednesday Bible study group ended up being a problem-solving session for me; it was quickly established that I would be doing communication, planning, and promotion-related tasks for Lutheran Campus Ministry under the super nice watchful eye of Ben Buss. In my mind, the work began at the planning meeting later that night when ideas were being thrown out and I shouted out the word joy. Ben Masters came over today and we leisurely searched Youtube and my external harddrive for evidences of joy to incorporate into the service. These EL hours should be blissfully spent without a whole lot of worry; I'm not out adventuring for the sake of music but I am doing the things I'm good at for my favorite organization I've come into contact with since moving to Northern Virginia. I'm just hoping I can get away with learning about myself in relation to people and religion rather than the actual tasks I am completing. Take note -- this is love and sincerity; a rare thing indeed.
That leaves one more credit unaccounted for. That last credit is really a mystery to me; it goes along with the Personal and Social Entrepreneurship class I'm taking. The professor worries me a great deal; she walked in the first day and handed me a poem about attitude and an unfinished syllabus which only had plans for week one on it. Wow; red flag that says I might not like this class very much. This woman had a lot of passion and knowledge but seemed ill-prepared to teach. I don't like that. I do my homework so shouldn't you? No mention was made about this Experiential Learning credit or hours or paperwork, etc. I am worried that this will not pop up until the middle of the semester in which case there will be a mad scramble to........well, I'm not sure. Finding volunteer hours is one thing but it wouldn't surprise me if this woman actually wanted us to start a business on short notice. She seems kind of crazy like that. I'm already envisioning myself wearing a chef's hat making hash browns at a kiosk in the JC or perhaps starting a wildly popular blog concerning something trashy to market to hipsters (a la I Bang the Worst Dudes). I don't know; what else can I do on short notice from here? On the first day of class she showed us a video of businesses that started for under five hundred bucks but what she doesn't realize is that a) I don't really have five hundred bucks to spare and b) I don't really want to start a business. The only reason I am not complaining about this on a massive scale is because she allowed me to convince her that the whole class should go get free pizza in the JC and as you may or may not know, this is usually a difficult thing to convince a professor to advocate. I guess I'll just have to wait and see about that last credit, huh?
I am awkwardly placing this on the internet with the knowledge that people can see it; the parties mentioned within can find this. People Google themselves, bands uses Google alerts, and blogs can see when I've linked to them. I'm doing this in an effort to integrate my life. I'm saying, "Here are my honest thoughts, these are the things I am learning, these are the things I care about, these are my friends, this is my music, and I am the same person no matter where I am."
I just hope that's okay.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment