Ascending the Throne
For about a week now, I have been counting down the days to graduation. The magic number today is 83.
Forget about PMS, IVF, or any other hormonally charged time in life—they are no match for the J-school. I have been having mood swings that, were they attached to a bat, would obliterate the single-season home-run record into the 24th century.
A few days ago, I extracted a promise from Zach that he would, every day until graduation, persuade me all over again why I shouldn't just drop out.
That sounds dramatic, I know. And I'm not a drama queen. Wasn't a drama queen.
But it's all angst, angst, angst these days, and ridiculously so. The important things in my life are going well. It shouldn't matter if school is a nightmare.
But somehow it does. So when I am not falling apart about a story or a deadline, I am as resentful as a teenager, finishing my assignments with clenched teeth and and a perma-scowl.
This is not a successful strategy. I have way too many deadlines left to get through on disgruntlement and bitterness alone.
It's just that I am having a hard time embracing this atmosphere as part of the learning experience. A friend of mine described it as boot camp, and that's not far off. My reaction? My character doesn't need any more building right now, thank you very much.
Zach would say that I'm giving this place, and these people, too much power over me. And he's right. It's just that even with the corners I have forced myself to cut, I am constitutionally unable to turn in craptastic stories and feel OK about it. I don't care if none of it ever gets published—it still has my name on it, it's still about real people, and I feel a deep responsibility to do them justice in my work.
I know that that's what will make me a good journalist. But it is making me a miserable journalism student, one that is questioning the entire enterprise and beginning to look fondly upon the prospect of artisanal cheesemaking as an alternate career choice.
And I already have one graduate degree that I don't use. I certainly do not need another.
Forget about PMS, IVF, or any other hormonally charged time in life—they are no match for the J-school. I have been having mood swings that, were they attached to a bat, would obliterate the single-season home-run record into the 24th century.
A few days ago, I extracted a promise from Zach that he would, every day until graduation, persuade me all over again why I shouldn't just drop out.
That sounds dramatic, I know. And I'm not a drama queen. Wasn't a drama queen.
But it's all angst, angst, angst these days, and ridiculously so. The important things in my life are going well. It shouldn't matter if school is a nightmare.
But somehow it does. So when I am not falling apart about a story or a deadline, I am as resentful as a teenager, finishing my assignments with clenched teeth and and a perma-scowl.
This is not a successful strategy. I have way too many deadlines left to get through on disgruntlement and bitterness alone.
It's just that I am having a hard time embracing this atmosphere as part of the learning experience. A friend of mine described it as boot camp, and that's not far off. My reaction? My character doesn't need any more building right now, thank you very much.
Zach would say that I'm giving this place, and these people, too much power over me. And he's right. It's just that even with the corners I have forced myself to cut, I am constitutionally unable to turn in craptastic stories and feel OK about it. I don't care if none of it ever gets published—it still has my name on it, it's still about real people, and I feel a deep responsibility to do them justice in my work.
I know that that's what will make me a good journalist. But it is making me a miserable journalism student, one that is questioning the entire enterprise and beginning to look fondly upon the prospect of artisanal cheesemaking as an alternate career choice.
And I already have one graduate degree that I don't use. I certainly do not need another.
posted by Jody Rosen Knower at 6:31 AM
2 Comments:
Two comments: 1) Someone, somewhere, must offer a graduate degree in artisinal cheese-making; 2) For someone who only ate string-cheese when I met her, you've come a loooong way. :)
I would start here:
http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Cottage/1288/intro/Intro.htm
I don't think it leads directly to the degree in question, but will probably enhance your application someday
-Neil
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