Well, whether you’d believe it or not from that rather hurried first Trio of the season, i am now officially a part of the Drexel University Chorus. As in, i auditioned — in a room with just Dr. Powell — and was accepted… albeit, not in the voice part i expected. So, there’s another hurdle in my life’s list of accomplishments down (and, my first “successful” audition for Dr. Powell ever). Yay.
Archives for September 2002
trio: season 3, #1
Will It Ever Come, Natural Woman, Deadweight
Will It Ever Come, Natural Woman, Deadweight
Now that i’m wandering around a full campus again i have so many little stories to share… strange things i see, observations, things i overhear … and, of course, it overlaps with having the least possible time to blog. Stupid life.
I have this ongoing joke, mostly with Gina and Rabi, that i majored in Communications to avoid doing anything difficult in college. In their sciences, Chemistry and Astronomy respectively, they pretty much have to work until they either reach a finite provable conclusion or a quantifiable amount of knowledge. I just have to work until i feel finished … with the generally correct assumption that my professor will be happy with anything that i declare to be my best effort.
Well, the joke certainly was funny while it lasted.
While i’m not going to compare my trials and tribulations to the multiple hour chemistry lab Gina has on Saturday mornings, the thesis Rabi has undoubtedly mulled over within the last thirty minutes, or the courseload of a Journalism major at an Ivy League school, this semester is shaping up to be the most challenging i’ve ever undertaken in every aspect — in quantity, content, scheduling, and resources. I have six full credit classes in addition to a single credit of choir, whatever other extracurricular activities i get entangled in, working all of my free nine-to-five hours in Admissions, and all of my typical personal commitments like writing songs and having a girlfriend. I know other people do this all the time (again, i’ll invoke Rabi and anyone who does theatre and works part time at a tier one school), but for me it’s an entirely new challenge … presented, almost shockingly, for the first time during my 21st year. And, surprisingly, i am entirely up for it.
There are a certain number of Freshmen who come to the Admissions office on the first day of class every fall, each armed with a question. They don’t know who to go to about their bill. They can’t figure out where their Dean is located. They haven’t seen Curtis Hall anywhere on campus and have class there in two minutes. In short, they’re lost.
They are lost, and they think we’ll know where they should be and that we will tell them without making too much of a fuss about how woefully uninformed they are as they enter this very important stage of their life. They’re right, of course, as this is without a doubt the friendliest and best equipped office within the entire University with the possible exclusion of the counseling center. However, i don’t necessarily credit their arrival solely to such a basic assumption.
We sent them an application or a catalog, maybe as long as two years ago. They’ve talked on the phone to their counselor here, and maybe even made it in for a visit. When they got their triple-thick acceptance envelope in the mail, it was our return address that was emblazoned on all of the letterhead within. We brought them here, and given the choice of desk staff or resident assistants or their friends or anything else they routinely wander into our office with the first of the many difficulties they’ll be faced with.
I feel a little like that about this page. It has opened up my writing, my music, and my life to avenues that i hadn’t even previously contemplated. It has also eaten my time, caused balled up fists and angry words, and has drawn an indifferent sigh of resignation on more than one occasion.
I am past my first problems, those things we are asked once every fall here in the office. I used to come here with all of my difficulties: with my degree program, with theatre, with singing, with the opposite sex, and with myself. But, slowly, all of these problems have resolved themselves into much more complex honeycombs of issues – interconnected, maze-like, and sticky. And, for lack of anything so easy to complain about as a class i can’t get into or a girl that doesn’t seem to notice my existence, I seem to have given up on writing anything.
What a very few of the freshmen ever seem to realize is that they can come back to our office more than once. Diane will still know the answer to their questions. Maggie will still smile and fawn over them. The counselors will still fight for them the same way they fought to make sure they enrolled here to begin with. I was lucky enough to find this out more than a year after my first timid askance of the location of Curtis Hall, and whenever i really need an ear of someone who is impartial to my problem but willing to help me however they possibly can i still come here.
And here. So, welcome back.
I don’t ever know what to write here anymore… maybe because my days have become so familiar, or maybe because i’m okay with them. I guess i can’t always be interesting and happy….
I didn’t go on too many college tours when i was looking at schools (possibly to my detriment), but of the ones i saw i was almost wholly unimpressed. Sure, the concept is good: pair a couple dozen visitors with one friendly student and let the campus speak for itself. In my experience, it never really works out that way; the worst case scenario typically involves the campus saying very little and the tour guide following suit, but being bored definitely isn’t the worst possible result of a tour.
The best tour i saw was at my first choice school, Boston University. Our tourguide was a petite sophomore wearing two inch thick chunky heels who walked backwards and just-short-of screamed at us for a two mile circuit of the campus. As tour guides go i consider her my role-model, and i try my best to do her proud. In fact, i did so twice today.
In case you haven’t picked it up from context, i’m not exactly ecstatic about my college; after four years the same old mistakes and scheduling problems are tiring, especially pared with the fact that i should’ve shopped around more extensively for colleges to start with. However, just because i’m wearying of my collegiate experience doesn’t mean that i should pass on anything other than enthusiasm to incoming students — not only for the sake of being a good salesperson, but because i owe it to them to give them the best possible idea of why they might want to come here.
Some days that best example includes climbing onto desks, singing acappella in the middle of our bookstore’s lobby, telling my group that i’ll be making up a name for the athletic field until i can remember what it’s actually called, and making used-car-salesman like guarantees about our housing policies. It’s unorthodox, to say the least, but people never fail to smile, laugh, ask questions, and shake my hand when i give a tour in my own special fashion. And, while i would never suggest hiring an entire staff of maniacs like myself, there is definitely something to be said for being able to frankly discuss a campus in a way that’s both endearing and amusing … as well as entirely unscripted.
Nothing to say. Wind blew this morning as we left the house, all coolness and invitation as it sang through the leaves hanging over my porch. Today is my last day at the Kingdom, and tomorrow i will belong to myself … one weekday in the midst of nine months without anything to answer to. And then a weekend. And then back to obligations, again.
Excuse me, i’ve been invited somewhere…