Blogging is 21st century navel-gazing, so welcome to my navel--pardon the lint. Three weeks into the semester, and I am starting to understand a) what it's going to take, long-term, to succeed at this; b) I have what it takes; and c) I want it. I'm sure some of you are embarrassed for me, that I'm just now discovering that I'm capable of high-quality college work. On the other hand, I've been doing difficult things, solving problems, learning, for many years, just not in the college setting. And because I failed at college once, I've spent several years deciding that there must be a special set of powers (that the superheroes have) that I don't possess. Turns out, not so much. The same traits that make me a smart, creative, interesting person in real life are the same traits I need to succeed at Hamline. And the same flaws that drive me nuts about myself (conflict avoidance, procrastination, time-management), are the same flaws that I need to avoid while I'm in school.
The biggest surprise about all this is how much I love it. Not just going to campus, attending classes, interacting with students and teachers--I do love all that, too--but simply learning. Again, not a really big surprise. I, more than a lot of people I know, devour books, magazines, and articles about a fairly wide variety of topics. I always have, and I've always pitied people without curiousity. But I assumed that kind of learning was somehow different from what I'd need to do at school (pop psychology answer: because none of my avocational reading and learning had any of the shame attached to it that did failing at school the first time around). Turns out, I just like to learn, period, and in the brief 17 years it's taken me to get over dropping out of college, being back is just plain fun.
The other surprising upside is how much more I enjoy the other parts of my life, too. My day job, my church music gig, both have a place and I'm able to put them in perspective in my life, and to realize that ambition for the rest of my life is not a bad thing. It's also nice not to be bored.
Thank God I realized all this before the big birthday in January!
And for those of you who just want to know how many hot guys there are on campus, there are plenty of lighthearted posts ahead (but a clue: the answer is lots).
ADDENDUM: Blogger's Rock doesn't like it that I've used "failed" when referring to my Concordia years. So you may substitute "quit," "dropped out," "followed a different path," or whatever phrase suits, as you wish.
5 comments:
Hi.I have a blog too.It is called Maps and Mania.It is for US history and you probably do not want to hear what 17 year olds are saying.As far as going back to school,I have been in school for 37 years!! What happens when you go back as an adult is that#1. you are paying for it and that is a great incentive and #2.You begin to get compulsive about A's.So be good to yourself.This will be fun and you will be with all the new fads.Ruth Mary
I bristled at the word "failed," as well.
That's not at all how I picture your college experience (the first time around), nor how I describe your reason for going back to college when I bring you up in casual conversation. And for some reason, I've been bringing you up a lot. In class, at lunch, with family... This (bringing you up in conversation) is probably for three reasons:
1 I tend to talk about what I'm reading
2 I'm fascinated to have a front row seat watching how college works in the 21st century
3 I'm proud of you
Good gracious, you were with us for four years, who even knew you didn't walk away with a diploma? It may have been one of those things someone mentioned to me once, but it didn't change how I thought of you, as a person of talent and post-collegiate achievement (so the info didn't stick).
Obviously, it (finishing) matters a lot to you and how you view yourself, so it's fitting to set the world right.
PS How do I describe your reason for needing to go back to finish college? I say you "had a tough senior year." Most people have had at least one rough patch in their lives. They nod.
I think blogging when it's good is interesting and intimate and worthwhile. It's memoir or autobiography. Far less navel contemplation than within Freudian psychoanalysis, certainly.
As I wind down from the weekend, I find myself wondering if leaving a weak/lame/irrelevant response might become the umbilical hernia of blogging - navel contemplation gone wrong.
I think we should have some photos of the blogger from those Concordia days. You should know I feel very strongly about this addition, and am considering what the consequences would be if no photos are revealed.
Here's how that MBTI workshop ended the other day:
A vision without a task is but a dream
A task without a vision is drudgery
A task with a vision is the hope of the world
- inscription on a church in Sussex 1730
Let me just say for the record that learning to give shots to my fellow nursing students was quite a bit more fun than reading "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson, which I did only in the spirit of support, and now regret.
I do not blame Scott, who is merely an innocent go-between in this atrocity - I understand that it could not be helped. But if The Lottery shows up in my dreams, I'm going to be vexed.
You've discovered that the secret to life is that there is no secret: you just have to do your best and hope it's enough. (Which, in your case, turns out to be enough for at least a small army.)
If you ever doubt yourself, just remember Mary's song:
"You can have the town, why don't you take it?
You're gonna make it after all."
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