My intent to declare WHAT?
Today I get an envelope in my mailbox -- it's not a threatening letter from the library, as I first suspect (because yes, I checked out the first disc of the Sopranos and still haven't gotten around to watching it, and it's been over a week now, and I'm developing a reputation for this so someday the librarians are gonna kick my ass) -- no, no, this envelope is from my college's Academic Services. It's in an envelope with my name very officially printed on a label, middle initial and everything.
"Oh, this really can't be good," I say to myself. I have visions of Academic Services swooping down and telling me that despite my consistent placing on the dean's list, they've decided I'm not truly following the spirit of the college because I never study and I always write papers at the last minute. "No!" I cry, but internally because I was in public, "I'll be a better student! I'll stop checking Facebook at work! I'll save hungry puppies!"
So readied for this possibility, I open the envelope and discover... a form. A form for "Intention to Declare Primary Major." There are essentially three spots for me to fill in: major, concentration, and my signature. This is all due, mind you, only five freaking days from now.
Theoretically, since I've already decided what major and concentration I'm going to be -- and have been going around telling people that I'm an English major for approximately a year now -- this should be a fairly easy form to fill out. And it is -- I've already filled out everything on the form except the date, and I don't have any second thoughts or anything -- but! But! I keep thinking -- isn't this weird? I'm heading down the road to making everything official. Unless I flip out and become an economics major when I turn 21, then two years from now, I will have a B.A. in English.
(And a nice steady job at McDonald's, or a bookstore if I'm lucky, but we'll not go there.)
I'm about to make an actual decision. And sure, I can always unmake it later, and it's not like I haven't already made the damn decision, I've been here almost two years, after all, but I keep thinking that... this is kind of important. And kind of exciting. And a little bit awesome.
So, yeah. That's been my morning. Discovering that yes, eventually, I will have to be a grown-up. Scintillating, ain't it?
"Oh, this really can't be good," I say to myself. I have visions of Academic Services swooping down and telling me that despite my consistent placing on the dean's list, they've decided I'm not truly following the spirit of the college because I never study and I always write papers at the last minute. "No!" I cry, but internally because I was in public, "I'll be a better student! I'll stop checking Facebook at work! I'll save hungry puppies!"
So readied for this possibility, I open the envelope and discover... a form. A form for "Intention to Declare Primary Major." There are essentially three spots for me to fill in: major, concentration, and my signature. This is all due, mind you, only five freaking days from now.
Theoretically, since I've already decided what major and concentration I'm going to be -- and have been going around telling people that I'm an English major for approximately a year now -- this should be a fairly easy form to fill out. And it is -- I've already filled out everything on the form except the date, and I don't have any second thoughts or anything -- but! But! I keep thinking -- isn't this weird? I'm heading down the road to making everything official. Unless I flip out and become an economics major when I turn 21, then two years from now, I will have a B.A. in English.
(And a nice steady job at McDonald's, or a bookstore if I'm lucky, but we'll not go there.)
I'm about to make an actual decision. And sure, I can always unmake it later, and it's not like I haven't already made the damn decision, I've been here almost two years, after all, but I keep thinking that... this is kind of important. And kind of exciting. And a little bit awesome.
So, yeah. That's been my morning. Discovering that yes, eventually, I will have to be a grown-up. Scintillating, ain't it?