senior year. who would have thought i would ever make it? it’s strange to know that i’m one of the elders on campus, and even more strange are the lightyears of difference i perceive between myself and the incoming freshies. you can always tell who the freshmen are (and this is especially true of freshmen girls) by their social uneasiness, like every interaction with every person could alter the cumulative value of their college careers depending on the words, tone, mannerisms etc., that they use. very strange.
and, as strange as this may sound, i feel like i’ve outgrown college. like i’m too old to be there, and am thus glaringly out of place. maybe that feeling stems from the fact that i didn’t spend the summer at home and that i worked full time and had to play the part of the adult (for the most part) in my own life, or maybe because i’m two quarters away from being done, but the feeling has been overwhelmingly present all day and it’s kind of throwing me for a loop. regimented schooling has ruled my life for as long as i can remember, and now that the summer has shown me what else is out there and given me time to grow accustomed to it, i’m left in a weird place.
i had three classes, one of which i dropped. it was a printmaking class, and i decided that i would rather have free time to be creative at my own pace (among other things) than be on deadlines to produce forced and rushed art. it will be much better that way, and i’ll have more time to focus on getting an a in shakespeare. best story ever: my capstone professor, who was also the professor of my very first college class and who i’ve remained close with throughout my years at spu, told a story in class tonight about a career project he had to do when he was in 8th grade. the assignment was to decide what you wanted to be when you grew up, and then find someone who had made a career of what you wanted to do and to ask them what an average day of work looked like for them. dr. thorpe wanted to be a writer, and since he was a big fan of john steinbeck’s, he wrote to steinbeck and asked him if he could write him back and tell him what a day in the life of a writer was like. and steinback sent him back a postcard that said something to the effect of ‘thank you for your letter. if i replied to every letter like yours, i wouldn’t have enough to time to write the books that you enjoy so much, but you should show this postcard to your teacher anyway.” he got a postcard from john steinbeck, great american writer and nobel prize winner! incredible. and i believe it, because from what i know of steinbeck, that sounds like something he would write to a fan. but what an amazing thing to possess!