Unexpected therapy

Today was my first scriptwriting class. The instructor is quite cool, and as it turns out is also a producer at the BBC.

NBD.

One of the first things she had us do was pair up with a stranger and stare into each other's eyes for 90 seconds. You're probably thinking the same thing I did: UGH. It was exactly as awkward as you would imagine it. Yet for some reason I found myself doing it with very little trouble. When my (younger, obviously) partner would begin giggling to relieve her discomfort, I would just give her a little smile to let her know that was ok, even though I wasn't laughing. I find eye contact terribly uncomfortable, so it was surprising to me that I managed as well as I did. I can't lie, I'm still a bit proud of myself.

After that we had to interview one another, the process of which would give us the chance to determine what type of rock star, politician, and movie character the other would be. After the first few groups went up and got this wonderful/terrifying analysis of themselves done in front of the class (by not only their partner but by the instructor and the rest of the class), I was dying to go up and find out what they had to say about me. Because I am forever assuming how people see me and I just couldn't pass up the chance to see how people actually see me, even if somewhat superficially.

It was possibly the most interesting and insightful thing I've ever been a part of. I won't go into details just because it would take a novel to really dig into it, but I what it made me realize is that I'm actually an interesting person with my own story that's worth telling. I know it sounds kind of like I'm fishing for whatever when I say that, but the truth of it is that most of the time I don't feel that's the case. That I'm just one of the masses. As many people probably do, or why would "Jersey Shore" exist?

Random observation of the day: As a movie character, I was the strong, independent woman. As a politician I was Hillary Clinton. As a rock star I was Janis Joplin or Stevie Nicks. I will definitely take that last one.

A new semester

Back to school!

My first class of the new semester was Professor Awesome's Japanese Film class. Our first movie of the term was Spirited Away, which is one of the most well-known Animé films out there. Naturally I haven't seen it since I thought Akira and Ghost in the Shell were the only Animé films required for geek cred, but apparently I'm wrong. At least according to Professor Awesome. Also, he totally Comic-Book-Guy'd us about not pronouncing Ringu "rin-goo" because the "u" at the end is a lilt, not a letter you pronounce. I love you, Professor Awesome, but calm down ok? At any rate, I thought Spirited Away was really beautiful and funny and sweet. It was also incredibly bizarre. Not that it's a bad thing to be bizarre, it just reminded me of the perception shift required when watching Eastern movies. After the first lecture and screening, I'm quite excited to see where this class goes.

I did some running around to register and deregister for various classes and I'm now enrolled in Contemporary British Cinema, a class on adaptation between literature and film, and a screenwriting class in addition to Japanese Film. This semester is the most film-centric I've ever had and I love it. The only down side is that I only just missed out on arranging a two-weekends-per-week schedule. I mean, class on Monday followed by two days off, then class on Thursday and Friday followed by the weekend... how amazing would that have been? I know, I know, the problems of a university student. Even more tragic than first world problems.

One of the most interesting things about this day was how amazing it felt not to be the new girl anymore. I knew where to go, saw familiar faces in my class, even helped out a new, lost study abroad student. There seems to be a lot of them, almost entirely single semester, which makes me the seasoned expert among them. When Professor Awesome started chatting with me as a group of us were waiting outside the classroom before the lecture, I thought I saw a bit of awe on a few of their ickle faces.

Until they asked if I was another one of the teachers. I laughed and said no, but in my mind I was beating them about the head with my cane. Whippersnapper Raaaaaaaage.

Random observation of the day: Apparently when the subject of Japanese adult movies comes up, I am far from the only one whose brain goes straight to tentacle porn. Either that, or Professor Awesome can read my mind. This observation could just as easily be called "things I learned in Japanese Film class today." I have a feeling this won't be the last one.

2012

What an insane roller coaster this year has been.

A year ago I was finishing my first semester at University. I was in a state of perpetual pretzel hoping that I might be able to spend a year living in London, but had no idea if it would actually happen. I was completely clueless about how insanely difficult it would be to get here even if I could... not that it would have stopped me for a second. I hadn't started on anti-anxiety meds yet. I hadn't experienced doing homework in a pub under Tower Bridge or accidentally wandering past the BBC building or knowing that my corner shop sells bread for 15p cheaper than Sainsburys.

Now I rarely have to look at the Tube map to figure out where I'm going. I know where all the good walking-distance pubs are. I have a GP and a National Insurance Number. I've seen several mysterious filming situations and also the Lord Mayor ceremony while randomly wandering the city. I found the best pub EVER, sang karaoke, had my American-ness drunkenly saluted, danced, and wandered London at 3am looking for the night bus to get me home. There's been money difficulty and culture shock and struggles to keep up with my schoolwork. There's also been new friends and new experiences and a lot of stopping and living in the moment with wonder.

I have no idea what 2013 will bring, but I have no doubt it will be exciting and terrifying and amazing and depressing and just plain awesome. Hope yours is the same.

Life on the couch revisited

I haven't updated for a few days because I haven't actually been doing anything except sitting on the couch coughing my way through a mild cold and trying to get myself to work on all my overdue papers. Not terribly exciting, I'm afraid.

I did succeed in finishing two of them, which leaves one still overdue and another not due until early January. Unfortunately it's the overdue one that's holding me up. I'm flailing about it for reasons I can't quite pin down, but I think they have to do with wanting the paper to be amazing because it's for my favorite class. I'm intimidated, I suppose. Some part of my brain is telling me I'm not good enough to write this paper. It's lying, I know, but that doesn't stop me from listening.

Fortunately it's for Professor Awesome's class and he's being, well, awesome about it. I at least have a very general outline now, so maybe I can just start writing and worry about the quality once I've gotten past all that horrible white space.

Besides that I'm just waiting for (my one and only) payday so I have an excuse to leave the house for groceries. Depending on the size of the paycheck, I may check out the German Christmas Market (which I'm told is somewhere on Southbank), splurge on a cup of Glühwein, and maybe see The Hobbit. If, that is, I get that last overdue paper done. I'll consider it a reward.

Observation of the day: Even when it feels cold enough to snow here, it doesn't. Or at least it hasn't, yet. Today was all rainy though, which I still love.

I should be writing my paper, but...

I didn't post the past few days because I was engaged in/recovering from the quintessential student experience of closing down the pub with my fellow students and also Professor Awesome. Because he's, you know. Awesome.

Speaking of quintessential experiences, I also had one later that night as I wandered drunkenly around central London attempting to find where my Night Bus picks up. It took a long time and a very helpful mystery man named Adam to get me there. Along the way I had a disagreement with the pavement. I lost.

Pavement 1, Melanie 0

But before all the fun got started, I successfully sold two textbooks and netted nearly £18, which means I got to buy litter for the cats and food for all of us last night. Because I'm not gonna lie, the litterbox situation had reached Defcon One and all of us were suffering.

I also attended a Christmas party for the Film Studies department. One of the many things I love about attending University in England is that there is free wine at every event. I mean, every event. There were also nibbles, and I had my first mince pie (which, in spite of the name, contain no meat).

Random observation of the day: American college students love buying rounds. Just because they can. Bless them. Or possibly curse them.

A little bit of skivving never hurt anyone

Sometimes you just need a skive day, ya know? Especially after the day I had yesterday.

Without going into too much detail, I ended up calling an ambulance for someone last night around 3am. Long story short, the person in question is totally fine and the story isn't actually that interesting. But it did result in a night of insomnia which further resulted in an unexpected day off from work.

Things could be worse, really.

While researching for one of my final papers, I got distracted by the source material and ended up having an accidental Hellraiser marathon. It's been deliciously nostalgic… I adored these flicks and this mythology when I was a teenager. Hellbound: Hellraiser II was the second horror movie I ever saw (the first was Poltergeist 2), when I was maybe twelve years old. Hellraiser: Bloodline (the fourth movie) came out around the time I graduated high school, when my infatuation with Fangoria was at its peak and I was consuming horror movies like they were going out of style (which, for the record, they weren't). Bloodline (aka Pinhead! In! Space!) is the only one I've seen in the theater… after that one they were just churned out straight to video and are now up to… oh, nine? Ten? At any rate, the first four movies were pretty important to my development as a horror connoisseur (doesn't that sound fancier than fangirl?), so it's been a load of fun revisiting them.

Sadly it means I'm not getting much work done. Just for the record, I have a 3000 word essay due on Wednesday, another 3000 word essay due on Friday, a 1750 word essay due on Saturday, and a 2500 word essay with is thankfully not due until January. Plus one final exam on Monday. No pressure!

Random observation of the day: Say what you will about the NHS (National Healthcare System) here in the UK, but I can't tell you how much of a relief it is to be able to summon an ambulance knowing it's not going to put anyone in debt. This is what we're missing out on in the US and it sucks.

How to waste a lot of time, but still get shit done

Seriously needing to do something about this snooze button situation. May have to move the clock across the room. UGH, I HATE DOING THAT.

Today was mostly focused on getting to the BFI (British Film Institute, for those of you who didn't take notes yesterday, shameful) library so that I could scan all those pages of research. Remember how I was supposed to bring along my USB drive this time so I wasn't wasting my time looking up all that stuff? Yeah, I didn't either until about twenty minutes into my studies. After much headdesking, I made the hour-long commute back home, grabbed the USB drive, then made the hour-long commute back to BFI.

Finally I could get down to business! It was a full-on musical montage of poring through dusty books and cataloged magazines and harried librarians digging through basements stack for missing back-issues of Fangoria and jotting of careful notes. Finally I had my material all picked out and ready for scanning. This was when I found it that they charge for scanning. Something nobody had bothered to let me know about before this.

Keep in mind, I'm absolutely broke. Like, £.17 in my bank account and £.34 in my pocket broke. The cost for scanning? £.20 per page.

Needless to say, I could only clutch my head as the librarian announced that the library would be closing in half an hour. All this work, all this ridiculous commuting back and forth, for nothing.

Then I glanced at my phone. My phone with the camera setting. My camera, which was kind of like a scanner.

YES.

So it's not a perfect solution, and I'll be squinting a lot while I read my materials, but 165 photos later I have what I need, now transferred from my phone to my laptop. Take that, British Film Institute.

Random observation of the day: Some people just do not get the whole stand-on-the-right, walk-on-the-left escalator rule. Mostly those people are tourists with suitcases and oblivious stares. If you come to London, for the love of all that is holy and unholy, do not stand on the left when riding an escalator. You will incite the silent, tutting rage of countless London commuters stuck behind you, unable to do anything because they are too polite to ask you to move.

My life is schoolwork

Oh, snooze button. We're really becoming codependent, aren't we? This has got to stop.

After my last sessions of Contemporary Hollywood Cinema (yay!) and British Horror (boo!), I started some research for my various final papers. This involved, just so you know, a trip past the Tower of London and across Tower Bridge. I made a point to eyeroll a little at all the camera-wielding tourists because I'm a LONDONER now and, you know, NDB YOU GAIZ SHEESH. Then I couldn't help but wonder how many times you walk past/over such an icon of London before you stop having to ogle at it.

I'm guessing a while.

After vising Unicorn Theatre for my London/Culture/Performance paper, I moseyed over to the British Film Institute library to do some research for my CHC paper on Paranormal Activity and my BH paper on Hellraiser. Which was when I discovered that they have back issues of Fangoria starting in 1988 and had a combined nerdgasm/nostalgiagasm. Also discovered in order to bring home any relevant articles I'll have to scan them rather than print them, so will be heading back tomorrow with my trusty stolen borrowed USB drive.

Got home to find a package had been left for me with one of the neighbors. The gentleman who lives next door kindly handed over what turned out to be my cigarette order, sent to me from US Customs after they determined that London is actually in the UK rather than the US. Got that, clovecigarettesstore.com? United KINGDOM =/= United STATES. Let's remember that for next time, shall we? Still, it was rather nice of US Customs to send me my cigarettes.

Also got the excellent news that the hold on my account that happened after the whole health insurance debacle* was successfully appealed so I can register for Spring and therefore get my financial aid. Massive relief there. Money is still difficult but at least I won't be forced to cut my time abroad short! A lot of the American associates I take classes with are getting ready to go home after finals, with lots of "I don't want to leave yet!" going on. Every time I hear that I'm so very glad that I was determined to stay a whole year rather than just a semester. No matter how tough some things have been, I love being right where I am.

*If you have no idea what I mean about the health insurance debacle, leave a comment and I'll do a proper post about it.

Random observation of the day: I ended up taking a different train than I usually do to school today, and I'm almost positive the guy sitting across the row from me was Colin Farrell. It wasn't a great angle and also I didn't want to stare creepily, so I'm not 100% sure, but I'm going to call it my first celebrity sighting anyway.

A day in the life

It's nearly the end of the my first semester in London. I don't know where the time went, but the quick run-down of my life since I last posted (I don't know when that even was and I'm too lazy to go look) is this: I'm clawing my way through my classes; I'm broke beyond belief (£.17 in my bank account right now, no lie); and I started a job with a hotel which will not be named as a housekeeper, which may actually kill me.

Don't worry, things aren't as dire as they sound. I'm also still enjoying school and the fact that I'm in London, I'm feeling a lot of love for my friends, my Mom is amazing, and Christmas/my 35th birthday are just around the corner.

So! On with business. I'm normally off Wednesdays, but since Professor Awesome was offering a review session for British Horror I dragged myself out of bed at what was supposed to be 8am but turned into 9am after I poked the snooze button a little too much. I did get really lucky with transportation, catching a bus and both trains within a few minutes of arriving at each place.

I've been listening to the latest (2009) 30 Seconds to Mars album rather obsessively on the commute for the past few days, partly because my phone is stupid and partly because the album is EPIC and lots of fun to listen to while traveling. Seriously, try cranking "Kings & Queens" while in a moving vehicle of any kind and tell me you don't have the urge to climb on top of whatever it is and throw your arms out and pretend you're flying. Always helpful for gearing up to sit in a classroom for several hours talking film theory... Luckily Professor Awesome kept it interesting as always, in spite of his noticeable head cold. The good news about British Horror is that I've finally settled on a topic for my paper; the bad news is I only have a week to make an excellent 3000 word essay out of it. Also the class is almost over, which makes me sadface. #FirstWorldProblems

I attempted to sell some textbooks to get money for cat litter. Found out I can't do that until Monday, and only two of the three will be taken by my school bookstore. However, I later determined that I can sell the third book - along with one of the Film Studies books I impulsively brought to London with me - on the internets. w00t! With luck, the total sale will net me around £40. That's a lot of cat litter! And boy is it needed... the damn box is about 80% pee, 10% poo, 10% litter. YIKES.

Now if my cigarettes would just show up... they appear to have been shipped to the US for some reason, but the online store isn't answering me when I tell them I'm in the UK now (as I have been for the last two perfectly successful orders). I am making a trollface right now. Thank goodness for the random pack of cigs I found on the steps into the Tube station near my job and the idiot who dropped a nearly full box. However, the supply is almost out and then I'm in full-on nicotine withdrawal until I have money/get the smokes I ordered. Look out, London.

Random observation of the day: a British girl in my Horror class who I always thought was a bit detached and arrogant turned out to be an amazingly funny and cool person when I finally got a chance to talk to her today. I love when a person I've judged totally breaks down my first impressions and makes me remember why those judgments I make are bullshit, just like the judgments I think people make about me are bullshit.

Just a little bit of culture shock

I'm nearly two months into my London Adventure and I've yet to update. See, it turns out there's so much cool stuff I want to talk about that I started to get overwhelmed by it. Every time I think of updating this blog I basically just freeze up with all the things I want to tell you.

The solution to this problem is that I'm just going to do a quickie update now, and then try to post small, frequent updates from now on. Although I've not experienced much culture shock, there's still little things I see everyday that make living here really fascinating and amazing. So I'll talk about the little things.

My one big moment of culture shock was actually related to school supplies. Somehow I just never imagined that school supplies would be different here, but they are. It all came to a head over folders. You know, these things:

The things that cost 50 cents and hold all your loose papers for class and generally are just a total staple of school shopping? They don't exist here.

I went into a bit of a panic. How am I supposed to organize handouts? Where am I supposed to put things? WHAT THE HELL DO STUDENTS DO HERE??? I was getting seriously overwrought over fucking folders.

Don't worry, it all came out alright. After what seemed like a ridiculous amount of internet research, I found these:

They're called "document wallets" and they basically saved my sanity. Since then it's been pretty smooth sailing in the school supplies department.

An American GeekChick in London

I overslept this morning.

This isn't unusual. It also has almost nothing to do with this post. While hurrying around trying to get showered and dressed and groomed, I took a minute to check my email because I'd been informed prior to the weekend that I would be getting my response from Queen Mary in that format and had been poking my inbox obsessively for the past few days. As I started checking off the usual political newsletters and social change petition requests for deletion, my eyes bounced to this email's subject line:

STUDY ABROAD AT QUEEN MARY

Caps and all.

I calmly deleted the other emails and then hovered over that enticingly shouty subject line. My heart was pounding. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before lowering one shaking finger to click.

"I am delighted to be able to tell you that your application to study at Queen Mary, University of London, has been successful and I am pleased to make you an offer of a place."

I let out a breath I'd been holding for sixteen months. A breath I'd been holding since I decided to apply for the U of M with the intention of taking advantage of their Study Abroad program. Then I promptly got on every social networking site known to man and started screaming it all over the internets:

It's real. It's happening. I'm going to London.

Changes are (probably) a-comin'...

So it looks like it's time to take this blog in a new direction, seeing as it hasn't stuck to any other directions thus far. Say hello to My Big Study Abroad Adventure!

Er. Hopefully something less lame as a title.

Anyway, one of the first things I looked into once I started Uni was the Study Abroad program. As it turns out, the U (as We In The Know call it) WANTS people to study in another country. (I'm assuming in my usual cynical fashion that it's because they still get federal money by having a student on record without having to spend the actual money to have the student physically on campus, times as many students as they can boot across the border/ocean.) Needless to say, I've been haunting the SA office since September in the hopes that they'll agree to send me off to London for a year.

Ten miles of paperwork, countless hours of research, and two very nerve wracking requests for letters of reference to my professors later, I now have everything I need to send my application out to Queen Mary University. Tomorrow will be the trip to the post office.

Ooh! I just thought of a new title for my blog: An American GeekChick in London. What do you think? Wait, don't tell me... if it's lame, I'll just proudly wave my lame flag. The new focus of the blog will be chronicling the events of my Study Abroad experience, in addition to the usual geek thoughts and life stuff.

So, with the application about to be sent off, please send any and all spare luck my way. Otherwise this new blog incarnation will be very very short lived.

Whippersnapper Rage

I'm happy to report that I survived my first semester. I even managed to pull off a respectable GPA. All while in a near-constant state of Whippersnapper Rage.

I'll share my top three moments of the ole WR:

1. My very first class was in one of those 500-person auditorium-style rooms where the professor has to wear a microphone because he legitimately cannot be heard from the nosebleeds without it. I ended up in the aforementioned section because I didn't know any better yet, and was amused initially by how many laptops swung open before the class even started. About a half hour into the lecture I began to be distracted by numerous Facebook homepages shining out of the screens in front of me. People were updating their status, flipping through pictures, even chatting. At one point the professor talked about the five most annoying habits of other students, which included cell phones ringing, noisily leaving the lecture hall five minutes before class ends, and PLAYING AROUND ON FACEBOOK DURING LECTURE. One girl in particular continued to obliviously scroll through photos and status updates as the prof was reading this bullet point on the slide. This was the moment I realized that I was legitimately dealing with a separate, completely incomprehensible generation.

2. One morning I was sitting in the same classroom, waiting for lecture to start. Two girls sitting next to me were having a conversation, as well as another pair in front of me and a pair behind me. In the ten minutes or so before class started, I heard the word "like" approximately 600 times. I really should have started a tally. Also, why is it that teenage females sound constantly exhausted/stoned? Like the very act of speaking takes every ounce of energy they have. And every clause ends with an upturn? as though they are asking a question? All I can guess is that the life of a modern teenager/early-twentysomething is both incredibly difficult and very confusing.

3. During my Film Studies class, Fridays were spent screening the movie we would then discuss the following week. This class was held in a room which resembles a small movie theater. For some reason, near the end of the semester as we watched Three Kings, one of the students thought it was perfectly appropriate to bring in a giant bag of potato chips and, in the middle of the dramatic interrogation scene, crackle the bag open and begin stuffing his maw with handfuls of Doritos. I would like to add that this snorfling Neanderthal had apparently never learned to chew with his mouth closed. For about twenty minutes of the movie all I could hear was CRACKLE CRACKLE CHOMP CHEW SNORF CHEW CHEW. It took every ounce of self-control not to get up, walk over to the little dicksmack, tear those chips out of his hands, and beat him with the bag while screaming THIS. IS. NOT. YOUR. DORM ROOM. YOU FUCKING DOUCHENOZZLE.

Next semester I'm considering riding a Rascal Scooter to school, just so I can run them over with it when the nonsense starts.

Life on the Couch: Life? What life?

There's been a distinct lack of free time in my life lately, and most of that free time is taken up with laying on the couch and watching television in an attempt to use my brain as little as possible (a difficult thing now that I'm taking several media courses that are teaching me how to be a more active viewer... le sigh).

One of the reasons I have no free time is that I'm a Festie. This means that for seven weeks I spend my entire weekend at the Renaissance Festival. I used to be a season pass-holder, but for the past few years I've actually been working out there. My job is a mix of hawking and heckling for the giant chess board. Once in a while I have to actually play, which is usually a disaster to my ego because I'm lousy at chess. Fortunately it's great for whatever patron I end up playing against. Customer satisfaction FTW!

When I'm not at Fest I'm either doing homework, in class, on my way to class, or on my way home from class. (The public transportion system in Minneapolis... well, let's just say it's not the most efficient of the mass transit systems I've used.) Don't get me wrong, I'm loving every second of it. Well... ok, maybe not every second, but it's a million miles more awesome than getting up to go to a boring job in a cubicle every day.

The class that makes my little geek heart pitter-pat the hardest is definitely Intro to Film Studies (not exactly surprising, that). At the behest of my advisor, I will probably be focusing more on the literary/English/writing side of my interests next semester, but I honestly can't imagine it being a better fit than film study. I'm still on the fence about my major, but there's a distinct lean happening already.

Once the Renaissance Festival ends, I'm planning to up my blogging... if only to keep a better record of what's going on in my life/head/heart/etc as I go through this crazy rewind-to-eighteen-and-go-to-university experience. I don't want any of this to just fade away.

Closing one door, opening another

Today is kind of a big deal. It's the last day at my job of nearly two years… but really it's ending a chapter of my life that started more than seven years ago.

In early 2004, I stopped mucking about and decided on a career path. Time to stop all this mucking about! I thought determinedly. I'm 26 now and it's high time to be an adult! I then promptly began to go about it in the wrong way.

I went to community college and plowed my way through a year of generals just to get them out of the way. My second year of school I was working a 40-hour week, taking 16 credits at another school 50 miles away, and commuting four days a week to go between the two. I look back on that year and honestly, I have no idea how I didn't go completely mad. (I reserve the right to assume I'm not mad on my own blog, so there.)

By the third year I had begun to realize that I wasn't doing as well as I wanted to in school (despite quitting my full-time job and moving much closer to school). But I had already invested time and money, and I wasn’t going to just give up. I graduated by the skin of my teeth and started to slog my way through a field that was showing its true (and not so pretty) colors. After two years of clawing and scraping, I backslid into a position which was related to my field, but not doing what I had been aiming for.

I've spent most of my time at this job slowly and painfully coming to terms with the fact that I had failed at what I wanted; that I'd wasted my time and money on a career that was not meant to be.

Fear not, faithful reader, this isn't one of those tragic emo stories.

With the help of a therapist, I finally figured out that I already knew what I really wanted to be doing. Writing. Acting. Creating. I discovered that all those dreams I'd had when I was a kid were still there, they'd just been buried under years of defeat and self-doubt and forced adulthood. So I dug them out and dusted them off and put them back on. The coolest part was that they still fit, even though I hadn't worn them for the better part of two decades.

The end result of this seven-year process is that I'm starting over. I'm off to school at the University of Minnesota, entering as something between a Freshman and a Sophomore. Because one thing my first try at school gave me, besides a hell of a lot of hindsight perspective, was enough credits to skip most of the boring stuff (like Math… we hates Math, yes we do precious). I'm giving myself a few years off from being an adult to give my childhood dreams a second – well, really, a chance.

All of this has been about six months in the planning, and now this denouement is at an end. I'm about to turn the page on this chapter after a long, long time. Too long, perhaps; or maybe just long enough. I cannot wait to see what the next chapter has in store for me.

Life on the Couch: So, this is really happening.

I just got a letter from the University of Minnesota. I've been accepted to their School of Liberal Arts.

I've been in a state of high-tension anxiety since I submitted my application about three weeks ago. (Yes, I know. Poor me. Three whole weeks. THREE TERRIFYING, ULCER-INDUCING WEEKS.) As a “non-traditional” student (older, already holding an Associate's degree) I was relatively confident I would be accepted... except when I wasn't confident, which was pretty much all the time. I mean, honestly. What was I thinking, applying to a Real University? Obviously I'm just some idiot trying to pretend I'm world-wise and intellectual and will fit in with all the young, artistic types who will doubtless be filling the classes I'll be in. I went from desperately hoping for an acceptance letter to wishing I could take the application back to being completely convinced there was no way I would get in. Approximately six times a minute.

Now that I've hoodwinked them- er, I mean, I'm in and the self-confidence flail is done (related to acceptance in the program anyway), I can start to focus on exactly what the hell I've gotten myself into. Which boils down to: quitting my job and going to University full-time at the age of thirty-three.

YIKES.

Also?

OMG SO EXCITING.

One of the biggest mistakes I made when I was getting my Associate's degree (in Sign Language Interpreting) was being in way too much of a hurry. I didn't really care about what I was learning or experiencing; I only cared about getting that paper in my hands as quickly as possible, so I could start working. I firmly affixed my blinders about the reality of the field, and never really found my love of the work. I never excelled, and although I spent a couple of years working in the field, I never succeeded. I did the minimum I had to do to get by, and in the end it wasn't enough.

It's something I've beat myself up over a lot in the past year or so. It took a long time for me to come to terms with the reality of the situation: that interpreting is not for me.

It took even longer to realize that what I should be doing is what I've always wanted to do: to write, to act, to create, to dream.

I turned cynical at a very young age, for a variety of reasons. I gave up on being a writer or an actor or an artist by the time I graduated from high school. Even then, I was already looking for that elusive thing that I could do whether I really loved it or not, with the goal of supporting myself in a hard, cruel world. So I tossed my dreams aside and spent the next ten years bouncing from place to place, from job to job, finding things that captured my fancy for a while but never anything that was really true. And all along I knew that art and expression were what really turned me on... but I was convinced that it was simply not realistic to attempt such flighty pursuits. Not when there were bills to be paid.

I still have bills and obligations and the realistic fear that I won't be able to support myself. Or that I'll try this and I'll still end up working as an office assistant somewhere. The thing is, somewhere along the way everything changed. I realized that the only thing standing in my way is these fears. And the thing is, I can't let that stop me anymore. Scary as it may be, I have to take a leap. I have to follow my dreams and see where they take me. I think I'm finally ready to do that.

I'm about to start a great adventure...