This is the final column that I wrote for the Free Press, but it didn't quite see the light of day. I think my editor quit, and I was caught up between Dan leaving and Paul arriving. This was also written before the Virginia Woolf letter, though I'm not sure how that could've changed things. Oh, and I would've changed that last part, because well, Cleveland might be sticking around. Unrelated note, I filed my income taxes today- let me know if you need any help (I got an A in my Personal Finance class.)
I’m twenty-six, and I’ve been living in the city my school is in for five years. My college experience wasn’t going to be that of most of my friends, who went away after high school for four years and returned with lifelong friendships and a new purpose in life. I didn’t expect to make those kinds of friendships at USM, since I basically leave after class to go home or to work. I don’t even know the names of most of my classmates. My classes have been alright, but sometimes it feels like I’m just going through the motions. My decision to finish school wasn’t intended to change my life, but to even the playing field on the job market after college, and I’ve never considered myself very career-driven. But this job at the Free Press has been challenging, engaging, inspiring and fun- the experience I’ve always wanted from college. I want to write for a living.
It seems difficult to believe that this semester is almost over, and I suppose the last column of the semester should be used for reflection on the last few months. I skipped the shark dissection in Marine Biology. I barely stifled my annoyance with a classmate for taking up class time to complain about other students driving from the Gorham Campus to the Portland Campus and taking up all the parking- only to find out she drives from Grant Street, which at it’s furthest ends is only a half a mile from campus. I’ll have a lot of memories from this semester. My greatest won’t be my g.p.a.’s reflection on my attendance, or that I’ve actually remembered to turn my phone off in the library every time, it’ll be that this is the semester I decided what I might like to do with my life.
I love the feeling of someone randomly approaching me and telling me that they’ve seen my column. This semester, I received my first piece of negative criticism. This is exciting because it means people other than my friends and editors are reading. Even though my critic was right, I should make an effort to complete my sentences and find time for an additional round of editing (or two), it’s alright because I’m learning. For a few weeks between jobs this November, I was actually supporting myself solely on this work-study gig, which was an extremely exciting feeling. I’d love to follow in the footsteps of Ira Glass or Dave Eggars, even though I have more in common with other female writers like Chelsea Handler, Tina Fey and Candace Bushnell, I wouldn’t be disappointed writing copy for catalogues or obituaries after graduation..
Upon further investigation, it seems like enrolling in the Media Studies program might help me combine my love of public radio, storytelling and writing goofy, self-deprecating blogs about farting on the Champs-Elysse or slapped with certain parts of the male anatomy. Misadventures in Portland: Chronicling one girl’s quest for a major and a boyfriend. Perhaps this staggering and unexpected realization about my major will free up some mental space for me to focus on finding a boyfriend. Or maybe my column will earn me so much notoriety I’ll start receiving fan mail from cute guys in the economics or business departments. If either of these things happen, you’ll read it here.
It seems difficult to believe that this semester is almost over, and I suppose the last column of the semester should be used for reflection on the last few months. I skipped the shark dissection in Marine Biology. I barely stifled my annoyance with a classmate for taking up class time to complain about other students driving from the Gorham Campus to the Portland Campus and taking up all the parking- only to find out she drives from Grant Street, which at it’s furthest ends is only a half a mile from campus. I’ll have a lot of memories from this semester. My greatest won’t be my g.p.a.’s reflection on my attendance, or that I’ve actually remembered to turn my phone off in the library every time, it’ll be that this is the semester I decided what I might like to do with my life.
I love the feeling of someone randomly approaching me and telling me that they’ve seen my column. This semester, I received my first piece of negative criticism. This is exciting because it means people other than my friends and editors are reading. Even though my critic was right, I should make an effort to complete my sentences and find time for an additional round of editing (or two), it’s alright because I’m learning. For a few weeks between jobs this November, I was actually supporting myself solely on this work-study gig, which was an extremely exciting feeling. I’d love to follow in the footsteps of Ira Glass or Dave Eggars, even though I have more in common with other female writers like Chelsea Handler, Tina Fey and Candace Bushnell, I wouldn’t be disappointed writing copy for catalogues or obituaries after graduation..
Upon further investigation, it seems like enrolling in the Media Studies program might help me combine my love of public radio, storytelling and writing goofy, self-deprecating blogs about farting on the Champs-Elysse or slapped with certain parts of the male anatomy. Misadventures in Portland: Chronicling one girl’s quest for a major and a boyfriend. Perhaps this staggering and unexpected realization about my major will free up some mental space for me to focus on finding a boyfriend. Or maybe my column will earn me so much notoriety I’ll start receiving fan mail from cute guys in the economics or business departments. If either of these things happen, you’ll read it here.
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