Earlier this week, I was sitting in Parrish Parlors with my friend Hannah. She was on her laptop, looking through the course catalog for next semester, which had just been put online. I realized I should probably get around to figuring out the requirements for majoring in Sociology/Anthropology and Linguistics. Actually, I realized that I should have figured that out a long time ago.
So I looked online, thought it over, and came to the realization that it makes the most sense for me to major in Sociology/Anthropology and minor in Linguistics. And then I realized that I had just kind of made a decision about my life, and ohmygoodness the moment is upon me, the future is now, help help help! So, instead of handling this like an adult and taking a deep breath, I instead got out of my chair and sat on the floor, half under the table, as if acting like a 5 year old would, in fact, make me 5 years old.
Despite my protestations that I was totally fine and just needed a moment, Hannah was a bit concerned (though also, I think, pretty amused) and called over our friend Chris, who happened to be walking by. Surprisingly, Chris seemed unfazed by my nervous breakdown, sat down on the floor with me, and asked me straightforward questions so that I could rationally talk through my way through the next 2 and a half years. So, thanks, Chris! (NB: I did later go and talk this out again with an advisor. I’m not making life decisions fully based on conversations held under tables.)
But I wasn’t the only one who felt more anxious than usual this week. My lovable and incredibly talented roommate Miriam applied to be in the Creative Writing Workshop which is offered spring semester. It’s pretty selective, and she really wanted to take the class, so she was pretty nervous about it. (I applied too, but I didn’t feel as invested.)
Two days ago, which was almost a full week before the decisions were supposed to come out, Liz Keck came running up to Miriam to tell her that she’d heard the list was out and that someone had told her they were both in the class. Miriam was, as you might expect, really happy, but she wanted to go see with her own eyes, and I went with her, reassuring her that yes, of course she should be really happy and proud of herself, and that I was perfectly fine and not upset that I didn’t get in.
So we got to the building and went up to the list, and it turned out that I’m first alternate for the class, so if it doesn’t fit into the schedule of anyone who was accepted, I’ll be in it, too. This led to both of us freaking out, though much more happily this time. I’m kind of nervous about the prospect of being in the class. I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch though, so I’ll leave that alone. If I don’t end up in the class, though, there’s a really cool seminar in Anthropological Linguistics that I want to take just as much. It’s scheduled at the same time, so I can’t take it if I’m in the writing workshop.
Life is finally starting to come together, and it’s pretty exciting. But the decision-making that goes alone with it could easily drive me nuts. So it’s a good thing I have my friends and professors here and my family at home to give me advice, celebrate with me, and sit under tables with me while I get a grip.
