Existentialist Crises
Because those are always fun to have when you're a twenty-something.
(Not crises outright, I guess. Rather just a handful of problems that make me regret having read Existentialism in research for my final paper in Shakespeare. (It wasn't that great, considering I never did incorporate Tom Stoppard into it.))
First: housing. The good news is that after a freshman year in Meadows Ghettos and two years of mediocre lotteries, I have an invincible number (4) for my senior year. So, I can live wherever I want on Upper Campus...almost. I didn't get into Beard, which I didn't think would be depressing me as much as it has been....I just wish I knew where the hell Student Life's logic lies in letting so many blatantly non-academic students into an academic-themed dorm every year. Bother. So now enter Sartre and his "nausea of choice": with my remaining options wide open, I don't want to fuck it up. I told myself since I was a freshman that I would one day live in Larcom; and while I naturally did get re-accepted to Wellness, I'm now having doubts about living there; worried that I'll end up living not with cool, mature Wellness kids, but instead with...shall we say, those 6-year-olds at heart: thus professed is last year's lament. Nonetheless, I'm not sure if I can bring myself to live in a regular dorm again, after my first-year baptism of fire. On top of all this, I'm not even the one making the final choice: poor Renee is my proxy. And I've got to decide this weekend, so...Wheaton people who read this, your input is valued. Seriously. Suggestions, please?
Second: I'm still sitting on my scholarship money with only one week left to claim it. How did I get into this mess? I keep telling myself, the answer to that question is that I didn't try harder in accessing it last summer. I had every reason to go for it then, and I blew it, thinking I had another chance. Now, I'm in a program where I'm going to be in classes during the summer, making time for a qualifiable internship near impossible; with only a few weeks back home in August before classes at Wheaton will resume. Either case, I don't see how I'm going to get the full stipend, let alone any of it. I just don't know where to look...or what to look for...here or there. And every time I turn around, there's new news that another of my friends is interning this summer for change. It's all quite discouraging.
Third and finally: Study abroad isn't all fun and adventures. Since the intensive ended and my parents left last week, I find myself downright lonely too much of the time, although I know I have only self to blame. Sometimes I wish I knew how to enjoy a weekend night out like the others in our group do. But I ultimately cannot bring myself to pay an exorbitant cover charge into a loud dark place balefully blasting beats -- as that is the de-rigeur culture every American abroad must enjoy. A simple night at a pub, crowded and loud but loud with merriment and crowded with conversation, good people and drink? Preposterous! How can I grind to this other American austauschende Studentin I just met if I am not flanked by a hundred inebriated Germans who know more words than I do to my country's pop music. [Note: A seperate entry about my interactions with the Germans is forthcoming.] I have an overwhelming choice of things to do, but not the will to decide what to do or to go it alone. After Sartre, choosing not to choose, condemning myself to be free. And thus, with no one to contact to have a like-minded good time; and me still being awkward and not all that close to my (female) flatmates, even though I have all but dissolved the language barrier by now; I spend my Friday night being at least somewhat productive, spewing my woes and vitriol onto ersatz paper. It feels quite good, actually.
(Not crises outright, I guess. Rather just a handful of problems that make me regret having read Existentialism in research for my final paper in Shakespeare. (It wasn't that great, considering I never did incorporate Tom Stoppard into it.))
First: housing. The good news is that after a freshman year in Meadows Ghettos and two years of mediocre lotteries, I have an invincible number (4) for my senior year. So, I can live wherever I want on Upper Campus...almost. I didn't get into Beard, which I didn't think would be depressing me as much as it has been....I just wish I knew where the hell Student Life's logic lies in letting so many blatantly non-academic students into an academic-themed dorm every year. Bother. So now enter Sartre and his "nausea of choice": with my remaining options wide open, I don't want to fuck it up. I told myself since I was a freshman that I would one day live in Larcom; and while I naturally did get re-accepted to Wellness, I'm now having doubts about living there; worried that I'll end up living not with cool, mature Wellness kids, but instead with...shall we say, those 6-year-olds at heart: thus professed is last year's lament. Nonetheless, I'm not sure if I can bring myself to live in a regular dorm again, after my first-year baptism of fire. On top of all this, I'm not even the one making the final choice: poor Renee is my proxy. And I've got to decide this weekend, so...Wheaton people who read this, your input is valued. Seriously. Suggestions, please?
Second: I'm still sitting on my scholarship money with only one week left to claim it. How did I get into this mess? I keep telling myself, the answer to that question is that I didn't try harder in accessing it last summer. I had every reason to go for it then, and I blew it, thinking I had another chance. Now, I'm in a program where I'm going to be in classes during the summer, making time for a qualifiable internship near impossible; with only a few weeks back home in August before classes at Wheaton will resume. Either case, I don't see how I'm going to get the full stipend, let alone any of it. I just don't know where to look...or what to look for...here or there. And every time I turn around, there's new news that another of my friends is interning this summer for change. It's all quite discouraging.
Third and finally: Study abroad isn't all fun and adventures. Since the intensive ended and my parents left last week, I find myself downright lonely too much of the time, although I know I have only self to blame. Sometimes I wish I knew how to enjoy a weekend night out like the others in our group do. But I ultimately cannot bring myself to pay an exorbitant cover charge into a loud dark place balefully blasting beats -- as that is the de-rigeur culture every American abroad must enjoy. A simple night at a pub, crowded and loud but loud with merriment and crowded with conversation, good people and drink? Preposterous! How can I grind to this other American austauschende Studentin I just met if I am not flanked by a hundred inebriated Germans who know more words than I do to my country's pop music. [Note: A seperate entry about my interactions with the Germans is forthcoming.] I have an overwhelming choice of things to do, but not the will to decide what to do or to go it alone. After Sartre, choosing not to choose, condemning myself to be free. And thus, with no one to contact to have a like-minded good time; and me still being awkward and not all that close to my (female) flatmates, even though I have all but dissolved the language barrier by now; I spend my Friday night being at least somewhat productive, spewing my woes and vitriol onto ersatz paper. It feels quite good, actually.