As an undergraduate at Meredith Angel (with only things like women's rights to avenge), I completed my psychology thesis research in the identity development of young adults, or emerging adults, if you will. This term- now widely used among others like Generation Y, the Millenials- was coined by the researcher J.J. Arnett to define those between 18-25 who are finding-- no stumbling their way from their teenage years into adulthood. This is a period for the privileged middle and upper class of the world, mostly Westerners, to figure out if they are keeping those core values given from their parents or dropping them for any of the endless other choices. I always had a bit of a beef with the age definition because I know plenty of people who are still defining themselves throughout their 20s and into their 30s, and as I approach my 25th birthday (it's merely 2.5 months away) I can't imagine having enough figured enough out to be an adult.
Now, by this point, we all know that my 25 before 25 is not going to be finished. I've worked really hard on these goals, and even completed some big ones, so they'll be upgraded to a 30 before 30. No problem. But also, there are some changes as I continue to work on as I strive to work out some of the uncertainties about who I am and where I'm going both metaphorically and actually. In fact, a huge part of keeping up this blog has been to record and to announce my grand life changes, has it not?
So for a variety of reasons, my Fulbright year helped me realize that I don't want to get into academics. Was I a bit wishy-washy under that kind of freedom and an unclear vision? Sure. But partially I'd like some job mobility, and after some great years of uncertainty, I'm looking forward to any security life can afford. I don't see research or university life rendering these things for me. We may discuss the reasons why to all of these things, but let's just skip that for now and say we're all right. The world is crumbling. Society is changing for the better. Whatever, back to me. (It is my blog after all.)
In exploring the skills and the experiences I had acquired and whatever I could possibly do with them on somewhat my terms, a dear friend Allison suggested I look into consulting over a yummy autumn meal. From there I applied to two great business schools and decided on one as mentioned earlier. This time next year, I'll be graduating from Duke University's Fuqua Business School with a Master's in Management Studies. I'm learning business foundations in 10 months. Think of it like an MBA, Jr. for stinkers like me without the experience to get an MBA.
I'm awfully excited about it. I'm also a bit nervous. In a year (!!!), I'll already be a graduate. And let's be real: I never anything about business studies outside of my half semester of economics as a senior in high school (Many thanks, Mr. David Seidel!). Thankfully, Fuqua's MMS program has set me on a path of pre-program studying, learning how to use Excel's financial functions, calculating future values on investments and profit margins, and other stuff that might bore you to tears if you are one of my typical blog readers. You guys come for the European adventures, I know. I promise, I'll be back there... eventually.
But for now, I'm *surprise!* enjoying soaking in this new knowledge and discovering a foreign side of me. A side that can employ my data analysis skills and creative critical thinking in an unfamiliar atmosphere. Once again I feel like I can offer something to society. I find that I am not reinventing myself, but working on a foundation that's already been prepared with much effort. For some of you, this new career choice may seem like an about-face change, a rejection of who I was. Instead, I delightfully continue to be surprised by another facet to who I am and what I have to offer. What I do as a job simply does not define who I am.
If nothing else, it is a pleasant reminder that I should never be simply complacent, that I can always discover a better version of myself. Passion and opportunities are everywhere, if only we commit to making them our own.
Also, calm down all of you anti-Duke fans. I'm not going to play basketball. I wasn't dealt those cards.
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
13 May 2013
11 April 2011
I had to take a break from blogging, but beyond working with the children and on a phenomenal run of ASSASSINS! with Theatre Alliance, nothing much happened. That is until my life was turned upside down just last Monday. It's taken some time to process, but I went on a glorious run yesterday with beautiful weather, awesome shuffle music, and the aroma of dogwoods and sweet burning wood. And that perfectly simple moment brought all the clarity I needed.
I had gotten tired of waiting. Most of all, I was exhausted by the uncertainty. There's nothing quite like the mystery of the future to make you uncomfortable with everything. One of the principles I stand on is that discomfort naturally brings growth, but I felt like I had done all the growing I could. I started doubting. Doubting the decisions I had made, the state I am in, and my plans for the future. And because these were no longer investigative questions, I needed to gain some control over my own life.
The way that is done is making decisions and dealing with the consequences. So Monday morning I sent an email to Western Washington University accepting their invitation to be a part of the Experimental Psychology program. I applied to the master's program under the direction of Dr. Kate McLean, whose work I've been following for years. It's a perfect fit with my interests and seemed like a good foundation to start my graduate career in that atmosphere.
In the afternoon, my parents and I all arrived home simultaneously. I followed Dad out to the mailbox telling him about my decision. He handed me a letter, which is odd because I get about 5 credit card offers and one Meredith mailing each month, rarely anything else. My eyes blurred to comprehend the page quickly and focused on these words in the first paragraph: "alternate...Fulbright...later date...." I had read all I needed and handed it off.
All at once the tension was released from my surroundings. I took a deep breath and all I could say was, "Well, that's that" as I plopped on the couch. I didn't know what to do with myself. My parents were saying encouraging things and I'm sure I was responding to their questions and comments, but I could really only feel myself breathing. Dramatic, yes, but true.
Then the tears came and I felt a surge of disappointment. I was never sure I was going to receive the grant, but I was always hopeful. I knew I had submitted the best application I was capable of and I wasn't upset about that. I had to mourn my dreams of returning to Italy with a passionate purpose. I had to say good-bye to my dreams of living where and working on what I love at someone else's expense. I also had to let go of my hopes that this opportunity would be my golden ticket for a fellowship and a life without student loans.
Yet, I can't help but marvel at the timeline of these events. I made a choice and received near immediate feedback that it was good. Call it what you like: luck, fate, divine presence. The title is not my concern. I'm simply pleased about the content.
But still, I am so grateful to have had this experience and for what I've learned because of it. Sure, now I have knowledge of a grant application process and somewhat survived a patience stand-off. Valuable skills. But to have the opportunity to hear words of support has been, in a sure contradiction of terms, both uplifting and humbling. One friend wrote that they just couldn't say no to me. A nice perspective, I may just adopt.
I had gotten tired of waiting. Most of all, I was exhausted by the uncertainty. There's nothing quite like the mystery of the future to make you uncomfortable with everything. One of the principles I stand on is that discomfort naturally brings growth, but I felt like I had done all the growing I could. I started doubting. Doubting the decisions I had made, the state I am in, and my plans for the future. And because these were no longer investigative questions, I needed to gain some control over my own life.
The way that is done is making decisions and dealing with the consequences. So Monday morning I sent an email to Western Washington University accepting their invitation to be a part of the Experimental Psychology program. I applied to the master's program under the direction of Dr. Kate McLean, whose work I've been following for years. It's a perfect fit with my interests and seemed like a good foundation to start my graduate career in that atmosphere.
In the afternoon, my parents and I all arrived home simultaneously. I followed Dad out to the mailbox telling him about my decision. He handed me a letter, which is odd because I get about 5 credit card offers and one Meredith mailing each month, rarely anything else. My eyes blurred to comprehend the page quickly and focused on these words in the first paragraph: "alternate...Fulbright...later date...." I had read all I needed and handed it off.
All at once the tension was released from my surroundings. I took a deep breath and all I could say was, "Well, that's that" as I plopped on the couch. I didn't know what to do with myself. My parents were saying encouraging things and I'm sure I was responding to their questions and comments, but I could really only feel myself breathing. Dramatic, yes, but true.
Then the tears came and I felt a surge of disappointment. I was never sure I was going to receive the grant, but I was always hopeful. I knew I had submitted the best application I was capable of and I wasn't upset about that. I had to mourn my dreams of returning to Italy with a passionate purpose. I had to say good-bye to my dreams of living where and working on what I love at someone else's expense. I also had to let go of my hopes that this opportunity would be my golden ticket for a fellowship and a life without student loans.
Yet, I can't help but marvel at the timeline of these events. I made a choice and received near immediate feedback that it was good. Call it what you like: luck, fate, divine presence. The title is not my concern. I'm simply pleased about the content.
But still, I am so grateful to have had this experience and for what I've learned because of it. Sure, now I have knowledge of a grant application process and somewhat survived a patience stand-off. Valuable skills. But to have the opportunity to hear words of support has been, in a sure contradiction of terms, both uplifting and humbling. One friend wrote that they just couldn't say no to me. A nice perspective, I may just adopt.
In summary, that's it. I am honored to have been named an alternate for the Fulbright, more affectionately titled the Miss Fulbright Runner-Up. I'm still in the running if someone else drops out...but why would they do that? Let's be real--I wouldn't.
And yet my self-made consolation prize doesn't feel much like one at all. My sights are set on Bellingham, Washington. I'm overwhelmed by even more opposing emotions, but in the end it's an adventure and we all know how I feel about that. Come visit soon!
30 August 2010
Buon appetit! Buon apettito! and Good eats!
The latest adventure I've had here is care of my dear friend Yoanna. I met her on the first day of university and we became friends quickly. (You've even seen some of the fantastic pictures she took in the last post.) Among the other cool things about Yoanna is that she's French, but speaks near perfect English due the years that she spent in the States. Yoanna spent the Palio with us and during dinner later that night, us Americans (and quasi-Americans, right, Filippo?) learned that she knew how to make crêpes and would be willing to teach us.
Yoanna made more batter for the dessert crêpes. I asked if I could learn how to make them...and tried my hand at flipping them. Here's a video of my first time flipping a crêpe. It feels a lot like learning how to ride a bike for the first time.
I ended up making the whole batch of dessert crêpes and got an international seal approval.
This weekend we had a lot of potatoes and cheese in the house and, by Filippo's request, we decided to make a traditional Puglian meal. (Puglia is the heel of the boot.) But when it was time to start making dinner Filippo and Scottie were out on a day trip. I called them, got the recipe over the phone, and put it all together. I layered the potatoes, tomatoes, onions, rice, and mussels just right with the perfect amount of cheese...and salt, of course. It was in the oven by the time they walked in the door. Now, I must say, it wasn't the most difficult thing to do, but it came out really well. I couldn't even believe that I made it!
On an unrelated note, I finished at the Universita' per Stranieri much better than expected. Actually pretty well on just a normal scale. Unfortunately the end of the course also meant that I also had to say goodbye to so many friends that I've made in the last month. But looking on the upside, now I have people all over the world. Next stop: Hungary? Portugal? Slovakia? We'll see where life takes me next. Hope yours is taking you to wonderful places, too!
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| The beautiful and sugar-sweet Yoanna :) |
We arranged a date for the meal and it finally went down last week. Yoanna made the batter with us eagerly looking over her shoulder and taught us all the tips of the trade. We had prosciutto e formaggio in the the first round of crêpes for dinner.
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| Savory crêpes. Yum!!! |
I ended up making the whole batch of dessert crêpes and got an international seal approval.
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| French, Italian, and American all agree: Thumbs up! |
11 August 2010
Call me by my name.
I generally love my class. I think I've made that pretty clear. But today something happened that just bugged me. Today we were working on this exercise matching the beginning and ends of Italian idioms together when my professor stopped to make a point about the language used in some of them. She explained to us that some words were not politically correct and were not used often. One of her examples was, of course, being Deaf. She explained that instead of saying someone is "sordo," you say "non udente," or "not hearing."
Now, it's not often I get up the courage to say much in class, but I just couldn't let this slide. I mustered up the courage, rose my hand, and putting as much confidence into my voice as possible, said in Italian, "I think that Deaf prefer that term to non hearing since it's not just a disability, it's a culture." She looked at me, acknowledging what I said, and responded that although she didn't know what people want to be called, it's not gentile to write or say that.
As a psychology student I learned that people who sign and are proud of being Deaf don't like the term hard of hearing. Not being entirely sure of if that was universal or just an American preference, I talked to my friend and former professor Rita who is a major player in the Italian Deaf community and found out that I was spot on. But she also said that while there are signing classes at the University for Foreigners, my professor was probably not a part of the community and didn't know that she was wrong.
I think that's pretty fair, but it brings up a topic that is wildly interesting to me: identity. In fact, that's the reason why I'm back in Italy. I'm working on a Fulbright application (fingers crossed) in order to work on interactions that migrants have with Italians and their identity. But getting back to my point, I often wonder who decides the identity of a person or people and the process of how it's formed. I know, thanks to Rita and our Sociology class, that it's a community interaction. People refer to each other on their similarities, but more frequently on their differences. But who gets to decide what he or she is called?
Not everyone wishes to be called Deaf if they don't associate with the community. Same with other abilities, ethnicities, occupations, etc. My Italian professor herself said that you no longer call one who collects garbage a "garbage man," but the correct term is "ecological operator." Just thinking about how an individual is named is an interesting thought experience. In most Western cultures, parents give children a name. At some point that usually becomes a soprannome, or nickname, and people have the power to ask individuals to call them something specifically.
Now I've got A LOT of nicknames, but have made more of a conscious decision to introduce myself as Samantha in professional circles, while I don't care very much what friends call me. My family has their own set of nicknames for me (some of which cannot be repeated...just kidding!). And the living-in-Italy thing I've been doing the last couple of years put me into existential crisis over how I would pronounce my last name. But beyond my own nominal issues (pun intended), I think it's important that we recognize that others have preferences when they express them. Most people love their names. Don't individuals have an implicit freedom to request how they're recalled or categorized?
Now, Rita may be right. My professor may not know about the Deaf community and her fault ends at her ignorance. But tell me then, where does ignorance end? I have opinions, but I'll save those for another time. :)
Now, it's not often I get up the courage to say much in class, but I just couldn't let this slide. I mustered up the courage, rose my hand, and putting as much confidence into my voice as possible, said in Italian, "I think that Deaf prefer that term to non hearing since it's not just a disability, it's a culture." She looked at me, acknowledging what I said, and responded that although she didn't know what people want to be called, it's not gentile to write or say that.
As a psychology student I learned that people who sign and are proud of being Deaf don't like the term hard of hearing. Not being entirely sure of if that was universal or just an American preference, I talked to my friend and former professor Rita who is a major player in the Italian Deaf community and found out that I was spot on. But she also said that while there are signing classes at the University for Foreigners, my professor was probably not a part of the community and didn't know that she was wrong.
I think that's pretty fair, but it brings up a topic that is wildly interesting to me: identity. In fact, that's the reason why I'm back in Italy. I'm working on a Fulbright application (fingers crossed) in order to work on interactions that migrants have with Italians and their identity. But getting back to my point, I often wonder who decides the identity of a person or people and the process of how it's formed. I know, thanks to Rita and our Sociology class, that it's a community interaction. People refer to each other on their similarities, but more frequently on their differences. But who gets to decide what he or she is called?
Not everyone wishes to be called Deaf if they don't associate with the community. Same with other abilities, ethnicities, occupations, etc. My Italian professor herself said that you no longer call one who collects garbage a "garbage man," but the correct term is "ecological operator." Just thinking about how an individual is named is an interesting thought experience. In most Western cultures, parents give children a name. At some point that usually becomes a soprannome, or nickname, and people have the power to ask individuals to call them something specifically.
Now I've got A LOT of nicknames, but have made more of a conscious decision to introduce myself as Samantha in professional circles, while I don't care very much what friends call me. My family has their own set of nicknames for me (some of which cannot be repeated...just kidding!). And the living-in-Italy thing I've been doing the last couple of years put me into existential crisis over how I would pronounce my last name. But beyond my own nominal issues (pun intended), I think it's important that we recognize that others have preferences when they express them. Most people love their names. Don't individuals have an implicit freedom to request how they're recalled or categorized?
Now, Rita may be right. My professor may not know about the Deaf community and her fault ends at her ignorance. But tell me then, where does ignorance end? I have opinions, but I'll save those for another time. :)
06 August 2010
Well, it looks like I just might survive alla Universita per Stranieri. One week down and beyond a few mistakes, a couple of ego bruisings, and un sacco di head aches I'm doing pretty well. My class is very challenging and the other students totally know what they're doing.
You may (or may not) know that I'm a bit of una secchiona. I've really always enjoyed being in a classroom setting and learning. It feels very natural to me, probably in part because I know very little about a life other than that. But back to my point, I'm sure you can imagine what comes along with this kind of personality: being preoccupied by grades, having the utmost attention to details, and caring more about classwork than classmates. But I must admit that this course has put me through a very drastic change in my typical approach to learning.
Since my grade in this course really means nothing to me, I've started really paying attention to the process rather than the outcome. For instance, I push myself knowing that I'm guaranteed to make mistakes, which has always been a limited action for me. Moreover, as I mentioned before, the other students know.their.stuff. While on the other hand, I am understanding about 65-75% of the class, but am missing some of the details (for now). Although I'm a bit behind, I'm working hard and still learning lots. And finally, I'm finding that having a rapport with the other students in the class is just as important as the course content. My intentions here were to learn how to speak. I'm not going to get that development from book exercises alone. We have several activities within the lessons where we can interact with each other, and everyday there's a 20ish minute break (from our 4.5 hours of work) during which I usually go on a walk or take a coffee with my compagni di classe.
My professor's name is Simonetta. She's very kind and has a great sense of humor. Simonetta facilitates all kinds of activities for us to learn. Just this week, we've played Taboo, listened to music, acted, and written a group story. For this morning's "warm up," we were asked to write our own haiku; mine, naturally, was about Il Palio. But in addition to the grammar, we learn a lot of cultural components of the language like idioms and word play among other things. During a lesson a few days ago we were working on gerunds (-ing words for those of you who've forgotten). She taught us a phrase that I've decided to take on as my approach to language learning: "Sblagiando, si impara," or "Making mistakes, one learns." Maybe this is the formula for success? I'm told it's very American. Which is fitting.
Still, there are a couple of things that I have to note that make this course even more different from what I'm accustomed. I find this experience unlike anything else:
You may (or may not) know that I'm a bit of una secchiona. I've really always enjoyed being in a classroom setting and learning. It feels very natural to me, probably in part because I know very little about a life other than that. But back to my point, I'm sure you can imagine what comes along with this kind of personality: being preoccupied by grades, having the utmost attention to details, and caring more about classwork than classmates. But I must admit that this course has put me through a very drastic change in my typical approach to learning.
Since my grade in this course really means nothing to me, I've started really paying attention to the process rather than the outcome. For instance, I push myself knowing that I'm guaranteed to make mistakes, which has always been a limited action for me. Moreover, as I mentioned before, the other students know.their.stuff. While on the other hand, I am understanding about 65-75% of the class, but am missing some of the details (for now). Although I'm a bit behind, I'm working hard and still learning lots. And finally, I'm finding that having a rapport with the other students in the class is just as important as the course content. My intentions here were to learn how to speak. I'm not going to get that development from book exercises alone. We have several activities within the lessons where we can interact with each other, and everyday there's a 20ish minute break (from our 4.5 hours of work) during which I usually go on a walk or take a coffee with my compagni di classe.
My professor's name is Simonetta. She's very kind and has a great sense of humor. Simonetta facilitates all kinds of activities for us to learn. Just this week, we've played Taboo, listened to music, acted, and written a group story. For this morning's "warm up," we were asked to write our own haiku; mine, naturally, was about Il Palio. But in addition to the grammar, we learn a lot of cultural components of the language like idioms and word play among other things. During a lesson a few days ago we were working on gerunds (-ing words for those of you who've forgotten). She taught us a phrase that I've decided to take on as my approach to language learning: "Sblagiando, si impara," or "Making mistakes, one learns." Maybe this is the formula for success? I'm told it's very American. Which is fitting.
Still, there are a couple of things that I have to note that make this course even more different from what I'm accustomed. I find this experience unlike anything else:
- being the only American in a class of about 25-30 people. There are people from all over the world and it's such an enriching experience to be learning about the Italian language and culture in contrast to those of everyone else's. But I really never recognized just how other countries compare themselves to the USA for better or worse. At first, I was nervous to admit where I came from due to all the stigmas that come along with that (almost talking about my nationality as if it was some sort of drug problem), but I'm starting to realize that if I act like I always do, it wouldn't be bad for people to meet a real American.
- being in a class with men. Going to a women's college, I'm not used to the influence of testosterone in a classroom. I only took one class at NCSU and that one was a huge lecture course and never felt I got the full effect. Since this course is very heavy on conversation , I'm not sure that I missed out on too much hearing what these guys have to say (haha!), but am finding myself still learning a lot from their unique points of view. And that's not even mentioning "boy humor." There's really nothing like it....
- since I'm walking to school. Or maybe "hiking" is a more appropriate term due to the Sienese hills. I was riding the bus at first, but to save enough euros for about two trips to the grocery store I've been walking about an hour a day. At first, "American Sam" was completely adverse to the idea of walking that much, but now I find it great way to wake up in the morning for class and give my brain a break in the afternoon. The weather has been wonderful; mid-70s during the day makes the walk perfect.
29 April 2010
14 April 2010
Extra quarters to meet the boss
I'm working as diligently as possible these days because things are coming down to the wire. I've got a big presentation Saturday, paper drafts, more presentations, tests, quizzes....Blah, blah, blah. The hardest part of all of this mess is that I still care. (That's something I really didn't expect.) I still want things to be fantastic and show all of the work that I've done, not the stuff I feel like I'm producing now. I know I'm gonna get through this, but it's weird how this month has become the most impossible of my four year career. And that's saying something in respect to sophomore year.
I was talking with a fellow nerd yesterday who told me that my life's just like a video game. This is the final level. The part where you meet the big boss/monster/nemesis and it takes a bit more getting through. He told me to have some coins at hand for the next few weeks, just in case I'd need some extra time/lives. Here's to putting my initials up on the high score list and moving on to something more meaningful.
I was talking with a fellow nerd yesterday who told me that my life's just like a video game. This is the final level. The part where you meet the big boss/monster/nemesis and it takes a bit more getting through. He told me to have some coins at hand for the next few weeks, just in case I'd need some extra time/lives. Here's to putting my initials up on the high score list and moving on to something more meaningful.
08 April 2010
Keep it loose, keep it tight.
I have decided that April is the Devil's month...especially if you are graduating. It's brought wonderful sun that just gets too hot, pollen that I have to wipe off my legs it's so thick, and allllllllll kinds of deadlines. Sometimes I sit down and have to talk myself away from a panic attack and just put stuff into perspective. I know it's just a few weeks. I know it's just a few papers. In my head, I know all of these things. But for some reason they get to be too much. So, I've been treating myself to some good people and good fun for the past two days. Shock and awe!
Last night I went to the Amos Lee concert at the Lincoln Theater with the wonderful Lormarev. It was perfect for enough reasons that I will enumerate them for you:
Tonight was Senior Inductions which was pretty entertaining for more reasons than I am willing to admit to, but there were plenty that I don't mind mentioning. First off, I didn't realize how much I was missing out on so many people in my life. I had a fantastic time socializing with people I don't get to see as often as I would like. There were a couple speakers who were wonderfully sassy and gave fitting words to a class like ours and gratefully reassured me that there is a life after Meredith and that it will figure itself out. (Love to hear that these days!) But I LOVE our doll, Iris Elizabeth Green. I think she's perfect! And although it's not realllllly me...the Suess suitcase will always be in my heart and now in Johnson Hall! Yay!
A few of us gals went to the Red Room (a little pricey for a college student budget, although they run a lot of specials) and had a relaxing dinner of paella and sangria. These moments are what I remind myself of when I'm working really hard all alone at random hours in the day and into the craziest hours of the night/morning. But it was chill and exactly the extra cushion I needed. I also talked to the DJ to ask about a really awesome song and he burned me a CD with great stuff on it. I'm a fan.
So here's to hoping that these recreation hours can output some solid work! But for now, sleep because the circles under my eyes are the worst I've ever seen. I'm thinking I should try to figure out how to make the sleep deprived look classy....
Last night I went to the Amos Lee concert at the Lincoln Theater with the wonderful Lormarev. It was perfect for enough reasons that I will enumerate them for you:
- The space was pretty nice and are bringing in some pretty nifty artists. I would recommend it. Although the crowd was...interesting. Let's just say that we were standing close enough that there were some real attention seekers, which is just awkward in a public place with low lights.
- Amos is adorable in so many ways. His voice is sultry and just makes me melt. He played some new stuff that was so touching (so exciting!!!) and some of my favorites, including a cover of Queen. It can only help that he's a pretty good lookin' man. ;) Also, the group was wonderfully nerdy, which I always appreciate. We got there to catch the end of Amos's opening act, Mutlu. This guy had a surprisingly sweet voice come from his burly body and played this hilarious, recently released original.
- Lormarev is a jem. I'm so blessed to have her friendship and her insight. I aspire to have the conviction and thoughtfulness that she displays so consistently. Not to mention, she's a pretty talented chick who invites me to all kinds of awesome shows. Jealous, yet?
A few of us gals went to the Red Room (a little pricey for a college student budget, although they run a lot of specials) and had a relaxing dinner of paella and sangria. These moments are what I remind myself of when I'm working really hard all alone at random hours in the day and into the craziest hours of the night/morning. But it was chill and exactly the extra cushion I needed. I also talked to the DJ to ask about a really awesome song and he burned me a CD with great stuff on it. I'm a fan.
So here's to hoping that these recreation hours can output some solid work! But for now, sleep because the circles under my eyes are the worst I've ever seen. I'm thinking I should try to figure out how to make the sleep deprived look classy....
06 April 2010
32 days.
Whew. There's a lot to do. No more breaks. So many activities it's making my head spin (1:35--and excuse the bad language for the sweet humor)! I'm looking forward to, but the hours still add up. I just realized that I have to complete 3 projects I've been working on for 1 semester, 1 year, and 2 years. Not to mention the other classes. Yikes. I keep telling myself that if I cut it all down into tiny pieces it won't be a problem. But no matter what I do I just see BIG LISTS. I don't really see how I'm going to win here...unless I look at my miserable bracket that still kinda won. And that kinda winning is the only winning I'll be doing now in life. Ugh.
But I've decided that owning one of these is clearly the only viable solution to solving all of my problems.
But I've decided that owning one of these is clearly the only viable solution to solving all of my problems.
23 March 2010
So I'm told
So I'm told that there are 24 working days remaining in the current school year at Meredith College. That's five and a half weeks plus finals. It's hard to believe that it's coming to a close, but I'm pretty ready. I feel like I've done everything that I came here to do in four years and am plenty ready for the next adventure. Still, I can empathize on some level with the various reactions on the spectrum of graduation.
Let's face it; graduating from undergraduate is no small feat! Many people don't have the opportunity or privilege to get to this point in their formal education. But it's important to keep it all in perspective. One of my classes this semester (which seems like a hodge podge class based on the things that we seem "to cover") discussed about how popular culture seemed to make high school appear like it was the end of life as you knew it.
Prom was supposed to be the culmination of all your worth and if you were a loser your senior year, you were nothing. Some people even returned to high school to make things "right." (And that's just a sampling of some of the classics, if you will.) My friend Jen pointed out that more recently (read: mostly post-1990s except for a real classic), college, which is slightly more accessible, has filled that role. Anyway, the point really is that I don't want my life to end now as much as I didn't want it to end when high school is over.
If anything, I think formal milestones like these should be an opportunity to renew your dedication to making your life whatever you want it to be. Specifically making sure that each day is a chance to make your ideas about the worth of what you are doing reflected in how hard you live life. So live life hard! I'm not saying there aren't things that I will recall with some amount of nostalgia, but that's the way memory works. Still doesn't mean that I want to be an undergraduate at Meredith College forever. Love it and leave it, or so I'm told.
Let's face it; graduating from undergraduate is no small feat! Many people don't have the opportunity or privilege to get to this point in their formal education. But it's important to keep it all in perspective. One of my classes this semester (which seems like a hodge podge class based on the things that we seem "to cover") discussed about how popular culture seemed to make high school appear like it was the end of life as you knew it.
Prom was supposed to be the culmination of all your worth and if you were a loser your senior year, you were nothing. Some people even returned to high school to make things "right." (And that's just a sampling of some of the classics, if you will.) My friend Jen pointed out that more recently (read: mostly post-1990s except for a real classic), college, which is slightly more accessible, has filled that role. Anyway, the point really is that I don't want my life to end now as much as I didn't want it to end when high school is over.
If anything, I think formal milestones like these should be an opportunity to renew your dedication to making your life whatever you want it to be. Specifically making sure that each day is a chance to make your ideas about the worth of what you are doing reflected in how hard you live life. So live life hard! I'm not saying there aren't things that I will recall with some amount of nostalgia, but that's the way memory works. Still doesn't mean that I want to be an undergraduate at Meredith College forever. Love it and leave it, or so I'm told.
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