It's a question I was asked during a scholarship interview, and I found myself fumbling - I didn't know why at the time why this question in particular threw me off completely, but now I do: It's ridiculous. Here's the question:
"Where do you imagine yourself in 10 years?"
Let's put this in to context (at the time). I am 17, very nearly 18 years old. I'm a senior in high school. I'm still debating between colleges. I only know I want to be an English major because English is the only area I have had a chance to explore, discover I have an affinity for it, and most importantly love it. I have so many dreams I don't know which one I want to explore, or if they are even feasible at this point.
Here's a rundown of professions I have briefly or not-so-briefly entertained: a veterinarian, a fiction writer, a reporter, a literary editor, a newspaper/magazine editor, a contributing staff writer, a photographer, a stunt double, a screen writer, a special effects coordinator, an actress, a publishing mogul, a lawyer, a singer, a freelance writer, a musician.
Those are the ones that spring to mind anyway. And you know what? No matter how old you get, once you have a dream, it never completely lets you go. A part of you always yearns to be that, even if it's not possible, even if it's not probable, even if you have discovered something else you want more.
Most importantly is that I don't know what dreams will become attainable by careful planning. I don't which ones will be attainable when/if Fate intervenes. Say I audition for a play, and get a good part. A movie producer or an actor or something comes along and sees me and offers me a role in a movie, or gets me an agent. Becoming an actress seems very likely, no? But say, a year or two or more or less, I write a novel and manage to get it published. What do you know, a dream is accomplished, because I took a class or I finally disciplined myself into sitting down and forming a piece of publishable literature.
Or say I complete college and land a job at a publishing firm. Say that I become a newspaper writer/editor for the college newspaper and my resume builds up so I get a job for the Chicago Sun-Times.
Idon'tknow.
"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"
Now that you see me, see what's in my head, tell me, how can I answer that? Explain to the interview in a few seconds what it just took me roughly five minutes to write? Time is money, very literally in this case. No way could I give a feasible answer except, I don't know. I don't know where I'm going to be because my life is still very much open to interpretation. It's an ambiguity.
(There you go, Professor Suda and Hale.)
In my eyes, that's a good thing. I would undoubtedly be very depressed if I knew exactly where my life was going to be in ten years, when I was only 17-18 years old. I don't want to know. I want to be happy. That's about all I can think of. And I think that's all I can feasibly imagine at this point.
It doesn't take Fate or careful planning to be happy. You just have to look at life, and be happy with what you see. The way I look at is this: if I don't know where my life is going to be, I have hope. And I am happy with that.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
First Day
Wow. So this morning is a blur. I remember getting up and getting dressed and not putting on make-up like I had planned. I went to breakfast with Mary Kate at 8:45 because my earliest class is at 9:30, which is AWESOME since I had early bird last year (Gary is going to laugh when I tell him that). I went back to my dorm, picked up my backpack and trudged to U.S. History.
I don't know if this is because I am accustomed to the unquestionable talent of Mr. Zini, my 8th grade history teacher, or even good ole Mr. Bond, freshman Civics and senior World History teacher, but I'm pretty sure that Professor Urban is going to put me to sleep. Which is a bummer, because he seems like a really nice guy. But what can you do? It's a general-ed class and the only way I could take another gen-ed history class is if I took Spanish 102 at 8 in the morning every day.
Say it with me: NO.
Then came ILA with Professor Suda. I can already tell she's a no-bull shit kind of person. She's crazy, but a good kind of crazy. She's also a music teacher, so there you go. She's also apparently a hardass at grading, but seriously, bring it on. Sorrill, Steelecat and Kensil prepared me. Mr. Roberts kept my self-esteem in check with his hand-drawn figures that I will always cherish.
Note to self: remind Mom not to throw that folder away or promise sudden death.
Afterwards (my schedule is 9:30-10:45, 11-11:50, and 12-12:50, bam bam bam on MWF), Spanish 102. Professor Germain Badang is an interesting guy - grew up in Africa (I can't remember where exactly....shit), speaks that language native to his country as well as Spanish and French, now lives in Monmouth, IL. Don't ask me how that happened, I don't know yet. And he began by speaking French, asking if this was a French class, which I didn't fall for because come on, oldest trick in the book (and I had already checked with the girl next to me that this was the correct class, thank you very much). Then switched to Spanish. He spoke occasional English, but in general, he said so himself, 80% Spanish, 20% English.
I'm interested to see how this goes.
I think my most vivid memory is the rain - it was beautiful because it hasn't rained, really rained, as long as I've been here. I moved in July 31 - yeah, that heat wave you may recall? No air conditioning. I drank four water bottles per day and only had to pee once, on average. So the rain was beautiful, but brief. It's weird because in some spots it was sunshine and other parts a little drizzle. Awesome. And I thought of As Told by Ginger, "There were copper colored ponies, air that smelled like rain, and the moon was out in daytime..." Blah blah blah.
Oh, and I was guaranteed no Spanish on Fridays. HOLLA! And I only have three classes per day, with the exception of Wednesday: 11:00-11:50 ILA, 12-12:50 Spanish, 1-1:50 Young Adult Lit, and 7:00-7:50 Print/Media workshop.
Best part of the day was going to the theater moving. As soon as they started talking about auditions, I slowly started to feel more alive. Finally! My chance! I've always wanted to act, but no singing talent = no part in the spring musical. Those *******! but now I have my chance. Then I had dinner with a bunch of theater majors/minors etc., and finally met the guy who I remember from two years ago in Sweeney Todd. He played Toby then and he stole the show, when he was a freshman. He's very dynamic and hilarious and modest and (I think) gay, and it's a great combo.
Moral of the story: everything, including first day of school, is better in college than in high school/junior high. I'd say elementary school, but a) I don't remember a whole lot of it and b) elementary school was the best years of my life.
I don't know if this is because I am accustomed to the unquestionable talent of Mr. Zini, my 8th grade history teacher, or even good ole Mr. Bond, freshman Civics and senior World History teacher, but I'm pretty sure that Professor Urban is going to put me to sleep. Which is a bummer, because he seems like a really nice guy. But what can you do? It's a general-ed class and the only way I could take another gen-ed history class is if I took Spanish 102 at 8 in the morning every day.
Say it with me: NO.
Then came ILA with Professor Suda. I can already tell she's a no-bull shit kind of person. She's crazy, but a good kind of crazy. She's also a music teacher, so there you go. She's also apparently a hardass at grading, but seriously, bring it on. Sorrill, Steelecat and Kensil prepared me. Mr. Roberts kept my self-esteem in check with his hand-drawn figures that I will always cherish.
Note to self: remind Mom not to throw that folder away or promise sudden death.
Afterwards (my schedule is 9:30-10:45, 11-11:50, and 12-12:50, bam bam bam on MWF), Spanish 102. Professor Germain Badang is an interesting guy - grew up in Africa (I can't remember where exactly....shit), speaks that language native to his country as well as Spanish and French, now lives in Monmouth, IL. Don't ask me how that happened, I don't know yet. And he began by speaking French, asking if this was a French class, which I didn't fall for because come on, oldest trick in the book (and I had already checked with the girl next to me that this was the correct class, thank you very much). Then switched to Spanish. He spoke occasional English, but in general, he said so himself, 80% Spanish, 20% English.
I'm interested to see how this goes.
I think my most vivid memory is the rain - it was beautiful because it hasn't rained, really rained, as long as I've been here. I moved in July 31 - yeah, that heat wave you may recall? No air conditioning. I drank four water bottles per day and only had to pee once, on average. So the rain was beautiful, but brief. It's weird because in some spots it was sunshine and other parts a little drizzle. Awesome. And I thought of As Told by Ginger, "There were copper colored ponies, air that smelled like rain, and the moon was out in daytime..." Blah blah blah.
Oh, and I was guaranteed no Spanish on Fridays. HOLLA! And I only have three classes per day, with the exception of Wednesday: 11:00-11:50 ILA, 12-12:50 Spanish, 1-1:50 Young Adult Lit, and 7:00-7:50 Print/Media workshop.
Best part of the day was going to the theater moving. As soon as they started talking about auditions, I slowly started to feel more alive. Finally! My chance! I've always wanted to act, but no singing talent = no part in the spring musical. Those *******! but now I have my chance. Then I had dinner with a bunch of theater majors/minors etc., and finally met the guy who I remember from two years ago in Sweeney Todd. He played Toby then and he stole the show, when he was a freshman. He's very dynamic and hilarious and modest and (I think) gay, and it's a great combo.
Moral of the story: everything, including first day of school, is better in college than in high school/junior high. I'd say elementary school, but a) I don't remember a whole lot of it and b) elementary school was the best years of my life.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Deja-Vu, Re-Vamped
It's not what I thought it'd be.
Then again, I had very few ideas about it to begin with. I just wanted something better. I looked around, every day, for about a year - looking back, for much longer than a year. There had to be something better. There had to be more.
Taylorville is a great place to grow up, but leaving is the only way to grow out.
So I arrived early, participated in research. Heard a professor say words like fuck and damn and shit. And you know, it wasn't derogatory - he/she was imitating someone, was talking like people actually talk, wasnt' worried (too much) about offending someone.
I went out when I wanted to go out. No checking in, no texting my parents. I didn't know too many people, because there were only a small number of people to know. Then I watched, as week 2 went by, and more and more people filled the cafeteria.
I sat with random people at lunch, people I didn't know. There were no cliques - football players mostly sat together, but that was because they were told to, to create "team spirit," at least until camp was over. Everyone sat with everyone. People who might have hated each other just a few months ago, had they gone to high school. People giving people a chance because everything is different now.
Hell, even the air is different. And sometimes it stinks, both figuratively and literally (there's a slaughterhouse on one side of town and a dog food factory on the other).
It was in some ways new, and in other ways not. I was a freshman again. Some things are the same.
But some things...some things are vastly different. I look back four years ago, when I met people who changed my life, people I never would have expected to - people who still do.
Take a break, and think. Who have you fallen in love with? Who do you still love - as a friend, as more than a friend, years after you first met? Who has changed you?
I know that, in some ways, that's the same thing - you never know who you're going to meet and what role they are going to play. You just meet, talk, exchange perspectives, exchange numbers. You talk about your schools, and what your major is, what you're involved in.
It's like a first date, but with friends.
Today was the Freshman Walk-Out. That's when all the freshman Scots (yay! I'm a Scot!) walk around the town and are formally welcomed by businesses - by pens, pencils, free notebooks, coupons, fliers, food, magnets, markers, key chains. It was hot, sweat fell down my back, and the bags (started out with one, ended with four) grew heavy in my hands, deliciously heavy. And I was smiling the entire way, because it finally happened.
This isn't my entire life. But it's my life right now. It's a new beginning, finally, the one I've been waiting for. The next chapter has officially started, a new page started - and I was finally who I wanted to be, who I could be. I could join clubs without being judged by people, without being limited by my old friends. And I mean nothing bad by that, because I love my friends, best friends - and I know that they know what I mean. Anybody who's been to college knows what I mean.
All the things you wanted to do? They're possible. And it's a glorious feeling. Much like high school freshman year.
But here's the difference, the big difference: I know how fast it really goes. I remember last year, feeling so old, so big, so brave. I N V I N C I B L E. I hope my senior friends know what I'm talking about, because it's a nice feeling to have once in a while - the knowledge that you want to get out of here, but for now, this is your place, where you belong, it's finally your turn to be the head honchos. There is not a person (worth knowing, anyway) who you don't know, not a teacher you haven't heard a story about.
My little darlings, who I remember as little freshmen still to this day and am so proud of the people they have become, know what I'm talking about. All I can say is enjoy it as much as you can. I know, there are times senior year sucks and you just want to GET OUT, but when you're out, you are out. There's no going back. Remember that.
I was happy at graduation - ecstatic. I hope you are, too, because that means you're ready to go, and you should be. But until then, take a look around every once in a while. Participate. Or don't participate - in one class in particular, half the hour we usually spent just messing around, me usually playing angry birds or complaining how I could be doing something for Journalism.
Just make some memories that you want to remember. You'll appreciate it later, when you're a freshman again like me, not 14 but 18, and remember those days that sucked, but you also remember the days that kept you going.
Also, Facebook = awesome. I don't know what I would do without it, friends-wise. I miss my senior class so much already. We were unique, we were friends, we knew each other. Now we're all in different directions (all of us, thank God, no losses yet), but we are still united - phone numbers, Facebook, Skype. I'm so glad. I don't want to lose contact with them just yet, although 10-year reunion is going to be fun.
It goes by fast. And today, I recognized that. I smiled most of the entire day, was in a jovial mood despite having homework for the first time in months. I loved my ILA (Intro to Liberal Arts) class, because it was different from high school. I went to an informational meeting about sororities, something I never would've done in high school. I went to a residence hall meeting and began to realize just how differently, wonderfully different this year would be.
I can't wait to see how I change, who I form relationships with. I can't wait to see what teachers I hate and what teachers I all but literally worship. I can try to avoid the fights when I can, but I know that every bit of it, good or bad, there's a part of me that's going to enjoy it. Because I will be growing, experiencing, constantly changing. I will become who I am meant to be. I will find out just what I am made of.
I guess you could say I'm one of those people. The ones that take everything in stride because it all happens for a reason.
There is a reason. It's up to me to find it. This is me, going through ups and downs. This is me, going through another four years that will go by so slow, but looking back, it will have gone by so fast.
This is me, a freshman once more. I'm going to enjoy every second of it, because I know how it feels to be a senior and secretly (or not-so-secretly) scared shitless of what's next.
We don't remember days, we remember moments.
Walking down the streets of Monmouth this early afternoon, with two new friends I met only a few weeks ago, I realized that I will get back to that feeling soon enough, in a full circle. I realized I will never have a first day of college again, only a moment in the back of my mind.
This is me, age 18 now, and I'm taking hold of these days that will transform into moments, and I'm doing my damnedest to never let go.
"There's a whole universe next door. Come on, let's go."-e.e. cummings
Then again, I had very few ideas about it to begin with. I just wanted something better. I looked around, every day, for about a year - looking back, for much longer than a year. There had to be something better. There had to be more.
Taylorville is a great place to grow up, but leaving is the only way to grow out.
So I arrived early, participated in research. Heard a professor say words like fuck and damn and shit. And you know, it wasn't derogatory - he/she was imitating someone, was talking like people actually talk, wasnt' worried (too much) about offending someone.
I went out when I wanted to go out. No checking in, no texting my parents. I didn't know too many people, because there were only a small number of people to know. Then I watched, as week 2 went by, and more and more people filled the cafeteria.
I sat with random people at lunch, people I didn't know. There were no cliques - football players mostly sat together, but that was because they were told to, to create "team spirit," at least until camp was over. Everyone sat with everyone. People who might have hated each other just a few months ago, had they gone to high school. People giving people a chance because everything is different now.
Hell, even the air is different. And sometimes it stinks, both figuratively and literally (there's a slaughterhouse on one side of town and a dog food factory on the other).
It was in some ways new, and in other ways not. I was a freshman again. Some things are the same.
But some things...some things are vastly different. I look back four years ago, when I met people who changed my life, people I never would have expected to - people who still do.
Take a break, and think. Who have you fallen in love with? Who do you still love - as a friend, as more than a friend, years after you first met? Who has changed you?
I know that, in some ways, that's the same thing - you never know who you're going to meet and what role they are going to play. You just meet, talk, exchange perspectives, exchange numbers. You talk about your schools, and what your major is, what you're involved in.
It's like a first date, but with friends.
Today was the Freshman Walk-Out. That's when all the freshman Scots (yay! I'm a Scot!) walk around the town and are formally welcomed by businesses - by pens, pencils, free notebooks, coupons, fliers, food, magnets, markers, key chains. It was hot, sweat fell down my back, and the bags (started out with one, ended with four) grew heavy in my hands, deliciously heavy. And I was smiling the entire way, because it finally happened.
This isn't my entire life. But it's my life right now. It's a new beginning, finally, the one I've been waiting for. The next chapter has officially started, a new page started - and I was finally who I wanted to be, who I could be. I could join clubs without being judged by people, without being limited by my old friends. And I mean nothing bad by that, because I love my friends, best friends - and I know that they know what I mean. Anybody who's been to college knows what I mean.
All the things you wanted to do? They're possible. And it's a glorious feeling. Much like high school freshman year.
But here's the difference, the big difference: I know how fast it really goes. I remember last year, feeling so old, so big, so brave. I N V I N C I B L E. I hope my senior friends know what I'm talking about, because it's a nice feeling to have once in a while - the knowledge that you want to get out of here, but for now, this is your place, where you belong, it's finally your turn to be the head honchos. There is not a person (worth knowing, anyway) who you don't know, not a teacher you haven't heard a story about.
My little darlings, who I remember as little freshmen still to this day and am so proud of the people they have become, know what I'm talking about. All I can say is enjoy it as much as you can. I know, there are times senior year sucks and you just want to GET OUT, but when you're out, you are out. There's no going back. Remember that.
I was happy at graduation - ecstatic. I hope you are, too, because that means you're ready to go, and you should be. But until then, take a look around every once in a while. Participate. Or don't participate - in one class in particular, half the hour we usually spent just messing around, me usually playing angry birds or complaining how I could be doing something for Journalism.
Just make some memories that you want to remember. You'll appreciate it later, when you're a freshman again like me, not 14 but 18, and remember those days that sucked, but you also remember the days that kept you going.
Also, Facebook = awesome. I don't know what I would do without it, friends-wise. I miss my senior class so much already. We were unique, we were friends, we knew each other. Now we're all in different directions (all of us, thank God, no losses yet), but we are still united - phone numbers, Facebook, Skype. I'm so glad. I don't want to lose contact with them just yet, although 10-year reunion is going to be fun.
It goes by fast. And today, I recognized that. I smiled most of the entire day, was in a jovial mood despite having homework for the first time in months. I loved my ILA (Intro to Liberal Arts) class, because it was different from high school. I went to an informational meeting about sororities, something I never would've done in high school. I went to a residence hall meeting and began to realize just how differently, wonderfully different this year would be.
I can't wait to see how I change, who I form relationships with. I can't wait to see what teachers I hate and what teachers I all but literally worship. I can try to avoid the fights when I can, but I know that every bit of it, good or bad, there's a part of me that's going to enjoy it. Because I will be growing, experiencing, constantly changing. I will become who I am meant to be. I will find out just what I am made of.
I guess you could say I'm one of those people. The ones that take everything in stride because it all happens for a reason.
There is a reason. It's up to me to find it. This is me, going through ups and downs. This is me, going through another four years that will go by so slow, but looking back, it will have gone by so fast.
This is me, a freshman once more. I'm going to enjoy every second of it, because I know how it feels to be a senior and secretly (or not-so-secretly) scared shitless of what's next.
We don't remember days, we remember moments.
Walking down the streets of Monmouth this early afternoon, with two new friends I met only a few weeks ago, I realized that I will get back to that feeling soon enough, in a full circle. I realized I will never have a first day of college again, only a moment in the back of my mind.
This is me, age 18 now, and I'm taking hold of these days that will transform into moments, and I'm doing my damnedest to never let go.
"There's a whole universe next door. Come on, let's go."-e.e. cummings
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