This will be the climax of my memoire
INTRODUCTION: I wrote this over four very long days before the wireless in my room began to work, not all at once - WSU isn't that boring. Also, while typing this I learned that a girl passed out in the achiever's dance and a firetruck came, and some kid had a horrible allergy to something at dinner. Do I laugh? Do I feel bad?
DAY 1:
Wrong foot. I didn’t want to be late, so Brian and I didn’t stop for coffee. On top of feeling bad about not getting coffee with him (which is silly, but still a minor but undeniable guilt), I didn’t feel talkative or enthusiastic today, when it was so important. And since we were uncaffeinated but on time, he left and I spent the next hour standing around for everyone else to be on time.
Last night wasn’t the first time I felt bad being preoccupied by work stuff when Brian was over, but it was the first time I really felt it, really felt like I didn’t want anything to distract me from him, even if we’d spent the whole day together. I resented work, resented obligations and people I adore because they kept me for a few moments checking my email while he was waiting in my room.
Before this, the day was the best. I can’t get bored of him, even if we spend half out time kissing and going, “Mmmrm … ” at each other. Saturday, between mmmrms, we went to breakfast and shopping, did my laundry and made dinner at his house and went to a play. We slept naked on top of the covers again, which I really don’t like but somehow keeps happening, which I guess attests to my ease at having him there. That, and him staying there every night for two weeks, except once. And now all this week - oh! like knowing I was going to Berlin without realizing I’d be gone, I knew I’d be in Pullman but didn’t know it would be so long without him until just this minute. A week - that’s 50% of our relationship already. Sad times.
So simultaneous are the last paragraph and the first, with doubts about my place here. After check-in in the dorms (my room is very private), we went on to dinner and an unexpected, terrifying ropes course agenda. The surprise of it was entirely my own fault, for not actually reading all the waivers I signed, and the terror of it was completely in character for me, compounded by my lack of appropriate footwear. I thought I might get out of it, but someone let me borrow size 7 Pumas. I tried to be enthusiastic for a bit, but I could muster not a single feeling to contradict my natural aversion to physical group activity, forced bonding and cliched revelations on teamwork. Ropes-courses are possibly my least favorite experience in the entire teamwork world. I bare-minimumed my way through four hours of low-rope activities, in which mostly clapped and spotted. The frequent glances from our instructor were either pitying or condescending, or both. If the purpose was to learn about trust and support in the context of ourselves and our team, each activity personally reinforced that I’m a supporter but not a truster. At least with a group of 10 acquaintances.
While we sat in color groups and discussed the evening with our fellow Achievers Peer Counselors, I wondered what the hell I’m going to do with my life. If I want to go into design, I’m going to need a lot more inspiration or I won’t make it a year. Or get a job to begin with. If I want to go into student services, I need to find a position that allows the things I do like about these (occasional personal connections beyond icebreaker-depth, a sense of really helping people and appreciation from them, advising in areas I have vague background in), but leaves out the things I hate about these programs (the rush, the mile-wide, inch-deep nature, overwhelming teamwork, forced mentorship, unprofessionalism). I also need to decide if I can really give up design. Maybe I could do both? Maybe I could fail horribly in both? Maybe I could fail horribly in everything, drop out of civilized life and move to my parents’ house in Darrington?
Probably my favorite UW Achiever called after I snuck back to my room, to say people were watching a movie in the lounge. Last year’s P.C.s went out on the town (of Pullman) and did stuff, but I think this year’s group mostly wants to eat junk food and talk loudly. Neither of which really interest me, so I left around the time more people showed up.
Something about having a room to myself, locked doors, private bath and kitchenette freaks me out. I feel like to be so alone I must be doing something guilty, and despite the locks I’ll be caught. I have this fear of getting caught (at the nothing I was doing) when I hurry from the stairwell to my door, and lock myself inside. I set my telephone alarm for 6, wonder if I’ll miss Brian less with pajamas or without, and wish I’d brought a bear to sleep with. Or given him to Brian, so he wouldn’t be alone. Either of them.
DAY 3:
I sent Brian a postcard with the sun setting over the Pullman skyline. I wrote him a haiku and drew a squirrel.
Yesterday was fine. Unexciting, overfed, caffeinated and tolerable. I talked to other returning students. Jen came and brought the UW Achievers tee-shirts I designed and I got a lot of compliments. Really, they turned out well.
Today the students came, busses and busses from all over the state, long silver charter busses, poorly upholstered, packed with cultures and colors and ideas. I stood in a lobby and unlocked doors and told them where to pick up their luggage. I looked at them all and felt no desire to get to know them better, any of them. I don’t care if they go to the sessions or to sleep at curfew or if they follow the dress code. I want them all to be happy and successful but I don’t feel a drive to push them towards happiness or success. Two girls from my high school took the other room in my suite. I don’t know their names. A large girl in a green track suit was nicknamed Bri Bri.
It’s not bad. I just don’t think I need this experience right now. Like I’ve moved on to something. I’d rather be helping the ‘adults’ cause disorganization behind the scenes or presenting a workshop. I don’t want to give tours or answer the students’ level of question. I don’t recognize anyone from my high school. I wish I’d stayed home.
I’m going to have so many roaming charges. I spent all my free time today emailing and calling the daily trying to get the arts content organized from across the state. It’s hard enough to handle when I’m working on campus. Today it was awful, and I felt so irresponsible not having my stuff together until the last minute. It distracted me from any possible enjoyment of the program I’m here for, and I felt irresponsible again for skipping out on my responsibility of mingling with and supervising the students. I’m bored and frustrated and anxious to go home. I wish I could fake a severe sickness and go home. I want to talk to brian, or kasa or sarah or someone I actually feel some connection with, rather than these people only related to me via a scholarship we received based on our parents’ location and income.
DAY … 4?
Today I realized we’re going to have almost no personal contact with the students … only one small, rushed group discussion, no time to make friends or influence the youth of American. It sucks. This is what I came here for. I want to talk to the dorky long-haired boys in pink pants and the quiet hands-in-pockets girls and tell them college is fantastic and not to be scared of the city or professors and to take CHID classes and study abroad. But apparently the peer counselors have been relegated to herding students from workshop to workshop.
In the line for lunch some kid behind me on the phone was telling a friend at home that the boys floor monitors were letting girls in and they were sleeping in boys rooms. At dinner all the PCs ‘clumped’ and ate together and two douchebags fought over whether Italians could be considered Hispanics. It was a good time though … many funny peer counselors. A staff member, clearly over the hill, showed us her break-dancing skillz in the cafeteria. It was bizarre and impressive. After dinner, the agenda teased the kids with activities that should only be done drunk: dancing, karaoke and bingo.
A girl from my high school says she has no idea where she wants to go to college - no idea, so confused, not very happy I don’t think. To me, this is one of many signs that this program needs revision. The planners seem to focus on workshops and speakers rather than the students for whom they’re presented. I know there are 575 students here, for only 4 days, but with 50 peer councilors and 20 advisers, no one should leave with such doubt. If I had a year to plan a week-long program with a $500,000 budget and 600+ participants from throughout the state, I’d be embarrassed by this. I understand difficulties, but this is a professional venture, this is for the benefit of tons of people, this is important - if it’s not amazing after four years, it needs to be reworked.
Some woman hit me with a Tootsie Pop and broke my thumbnail, and I haven’t talked to Brian since a little IM yesterday afternoon. But, only two days until Friday … then the long weekend in which I want lots of lying around …
DAY 1:
Wrong foot. I didn’t want to be late, so Brian and I didn’t stop for coffee. On top of feeling bad about not getting coffee with him (which is silly, but still a minor but undeniable guilt), I didn’t feel talkative or enthusiastic today, when it was so important. And since we were uncaffeinated but on time, he left and I spent the next hour standing around for everyone else to be on time.
Last night wasn’t the first time I felt bad being preoccupied by work stuff when Brian was over, but it was the first time I really felt it, really felt like I didn’t want anything to distract me from him, even if we’d spent the whole day together. I resented work, resented obligations and people I adore because they kept me for a few moments checking my email while he was waiting in my room.
Before this, the day was the best. I can’t get bored of him, even if we spend half out time kissing and going, “Mmmrm … ” at each other. Saturday, between mmmrms, we went to breakfast and shopping, did my laundry and made dinner at his house and went to a play. We slept naked on top of the covers again, which I really don’t like but somehow keeps happening, which I guess attests to my ease at having him there. That, and him staying there every night for two weeks, except once. And now all this week - oh! like knowing I was going to Berlin without realizing I’d be gone, I knew I’d be in Pullman but didn’t know it would be so long without him until just this minute. A week - that’s 50% of our relationship already. Sad times.
So simultaneous are the last paragraph and the first, with doubts about my place here. After check-in in the dorms (my room is very private), we went on to dinner and an unexpected, terrifying ropes course agenda. The surprise of it was entirely my own fault, for not actually reading all the waivers I signed, and the terror of it was completely in character for me, compounded by my lack of appropriate footwear. I thought I might get out of it, but someone let me borrow size 7 Pumas. I tried to be enthusiastic for a bit, but I could muster not a single feeling to contradict my natural aversion to physical group activity, forced bonding and cliched revelations on teamwork. Ropes-courses are possibly my least favorite experience in the entire teamwork world. I bare-minimumed my way through four hours of low-rope activities, in which mostly clapped and spotted. The frequent glances from our instructor were either pitying or condescending, or both. If the purpose was to learn about trust and support in the context of ourselves and our team, each activity personally reinforced that I’m a supporter but not a truster. At least with a group of 10 acquaintances.
While we sat in color groups and discussed the evening with our fellow Achievers Peer Counselors, I wondered what the hell I’m going to do with my life. If I want to go into design, I’m going to need a lot more inspiration or I won’t make it a year. Or get a job to begin with. If I want to go into student services, I need to find a position that allows the things I do like about these (occasional personal connections beyond icebreaker-depth, a sense of really helping people and appreciation from them, advising in areas I have vague background in), but leaves out the things I hate about these programs (the rush, the mile-wide, inch-deep nature, overwhelming teamwork, forced mentorship, unprofessionalism). I also need to decide if I can really give up design. Maybe I could do both? Maybe I could fail horribly in both? Maybe I could fail horribly in everything, drop out of civilized life and move to my parents’ house in Darrington?
Probably my favorite UW Achiever called after I snuck back to my room, to say people were watching a movie in the lounge. Last year’s P.C.s went out on the town (of Pullman) and did stuff, but I think this year’s group mostly wants to eat junk food and talk loudly. Neither of which really interest me, so I left around the time more people showed up.
Something about having a room to myself, locked doors, private bath and kitchenette freaks me out. I feel like to be so alone I must be doing something guilty, and despite the locks I’ll be caught. I have this fear of getting caught (at the nothing I was doing) when I hurry from the stairwell to my door, and lock myself inside. I set my telephone alarm for 6, wonder if I’ll miss Brian less with pajamas or without, and wish I’d brought a bear to sleep with. Or given him to Brian, so he wouldn’t be alone. Either of them.
DAY 3:
I sent Brian a postcard with the sun setting over the Pullman skyline. I wrote him a haiku and drew a squirrel.
Yesterday was fine. Unexciting, overfed, caffeinated and tolerable. I talked to other returning students. Jen came and brought the UW Achievers tee-shirts I designed and I got a lot of compliments. Really, they turned out well.
Today the students came, busses and busses from all over the state, long silver charter busses, poorly upholstered, packed with cultures and colors and ideas. I stood in a lobby and unlocked doors and told them where to pick up their luggage. I looked at them all and felt no desire to get to know them better, any of them. I don’t care if they go to the sessions or to sleep at curfew or if they follow the dress code. I want them all to be happy and successful but I don’t feel a drive to push them towards happiness or success. Two girls from my high school took the other room in my suite. I don’t know their names. A large girl in a green track suit was nicknamed Bri Bri.
It’s not bad. I just don’t think I need this experience right now. Like I’ve moved on to something. I’d rather be helping the ‘adults’ cause disorganization behind the scenes or presenting a workshop. I don’t want to give tours or answer the students’ level of question. I don’t recognize anyone from my high school. I wish I’d stayed home.
I’m going to have so many roaming charges. I spent all my free time today emailing and calling the daily trying to get the arts content organized from across the state. It’s hard enough to handle when I’m working on campus. Today it was awful, and I felt so irresponsible not having my stuff together until the last minute. It distracted me from any possible enjoyment of the program I’m here for, and I felt irresponsible again for skipping out on my responsibility of mingling with and supervising the students. I’m bored and frustrated and anxious to go home. I wish I could fake a severe sickness and go home. I want to talk to brian, or kasa or sarah or someone I actually feel some connection with, rather than these people only related to me via a scholarship we received based on our parents’ location and income.
DAY … 4?
Today I realized we’re going to have almost no personal contact with the students … only one small, rushed group discussion, no time to make friends or influence the youth of American. It sucks. This is what I came here for. I want to talk to the dorky long-haired boys in pink pants and the quiet hands-in-pockets girls and tell them college is fantastic and not to be scared of the city or professors and to take CHID classes and study abroad. But apparently the peer counselors have been relegated to herding students from workshop to workshop.
In the line for lunch some kid behind me on the phone was telling a friend at home that the boys floor monitors were letting girls in and they were sleeping in boys rooms. At dinner all the PCs ‘clumped’ and ate together and two douchebags fought over whether Italians could be considered Hispanics. It was a good time though … many funny peer counselors. A staff member, clearly over the hill, showed us her break-dancing skillz in the cafeteria. It was bizarre and impressive. After dinner, the agenda teased the kids with activities that should only be done drunk: dancing, karaoke and bingo.
A girl from my high school says she has no idea where she wants to go to college - no idea, so confused, not very happy I don’t think. To me, this is one of many signs that this program needs revision. The planners seem to focus on workshops and speakers rather than the students for whom they’re presented. I know there are 575 students here, for only 4 days, but with 50 peer councilors and 20 advisers, no one should leave with such doubt. If I had a year to plan a week-long program with a $500,000 budget and 600+ participants from throughout the state, I’d be embarrassed by this. I understand difficulties, but this is a professional venture, this is for the benefit of tons of people, this is important - if it’s not amazing after four years, it needs to be reworked.
Some woman hit me with a Tootsie Pop and broke my thumbnail, and I haven’t talked to Brian since a little IM yesterday afternoon. But, only two days until Friday … then the long weekend in which I want lots of lying around …