Friday, August 27, 2010

OH, college...How I miss you.

I work near a small University, and every fall, when I see droves of soror-stitutes prowling the streets late at night, I wax poetic about my own college experience.  I constantly wonder if I went to the right school, and I also wonder why I'm struggling to pay for a degree that I don't use in my secretary-ish day job.  I wonder why I squandered my first 2 years and spent my second 2 years clawing back from a seemingly unrecoverable abyss of a gpa.  I never went Greek, the timing was never right (freshman year I would have been chewed up and spat out, and probably would have never recovered.  Junior year, when I finally did rush, I was too far in the GPA trashcan for anyone to take, despite my winning charm  and the efforts of my little sister and roomie, who were both Greek by then. 

To put it mildly, I went to a nerd school.  A guy who was a 10 there was a good, solid 7 anywhere else.  The football team sucks, which makes sense, have you ever met a guy who's brilliant and who is willing to smash into other dudes at full speed?  No.  They've thought it through and realized that football's for those who can't get academic scholarships. 

I was originally in the Biology program, simply because it was the hardest major.  Now, in High School, I was smart, and I was cocky about it.  I didn't study, didn't have to.  I was bored out of my mind and figured that college would be as much of a cakewalk as high school.  Not so much.  The reason high school was easy is because po-dunk, small town, Midwestern high school is the equivalent of 8th grade in any major metropolitan area.  I realized sophomore year that I was drowning, and subsequently enrolled in summer school and changed my major.

Having a real job (you know, the whole 8-5 m-f schtick) I now know that I should have been an art major somewhere, studied my ass off, and gone to architecture or interior design school.  My heart lies in old buildings, most specifically queen-Ann Victorians, and the classical art masters, something I would have never known if I hadn't changed my major Junior year and been unable to get into a single psych class, forcing me to take 2 different art history courses. 

I'd love to say I've come to some profound conclusion.  I still can't decide if I'd been better off going to an easier school in-state and close to home like all of my (equally as smart) friends, but these are the things I know:

-All 8 minutes of "Crazy Game of Poker"
-Straight (cheap) gin tastes like a pine-tree air freshener
-Studying to keep your scholarship is a hell of a lot easier than paying student loans
-How to write a standard 5-page essay
-The difference between they're, their and there, your and you're, its and it's. 
-Calculus and I will never be friends (and really, who uses calc in real life?  anyone?)


When I was a child, and my mother punished me or forced me to do something I didn't particularly like, she'd tell me "Tough shit, tell it  to your therapist some day."  20 years later (over-priced and unused psychology degree in-hand) I would much rather put into writing my memories of my childhood, so that others may appreciate them as well.