get un-funky now

I haven't posted much in the past week or so (except for yesterday's blog title crisis). I've been in a funk. A seriously funky funk. And I wasn't sure if I should write about it because a) it seems incredibly selfish and insignificant considering the turmoil so much of the globe is in right now, b) I'm not sure if anyone wants to read a "woe is me" post, and c) it's scary to say – and write – these things out loud.

But I want to write about it. And I want to post it. And who knows, maybe someone can relate.

I've been feeling remarkably insecure lately. Not the typical girly insecurities like feeling not thin or pretty enough – although I have to say I have those moments as well. In general my insecurity comes from school and work.

I've never really been unsuccessful at school. In college I was honored with membership in Phi Beta Kappa. In high school I never got a B. I was valedictorian.

I don't say all this to brag - really, I don't. I never talk about these things. I never tell anyone unless I'm asked directly. I'm only saying them now to give context to how I feel and why I shouldn't feel that way.

I never felt smarter than other people in school. Sure, I realized on some level that I must be, or at least that the teachers thought I was. I did my best in school because I wanted to and I liked learning and because my father would have killed me if I didn't. And my best was always good enough - more than good enough. I wasn't really afraid of failing.

Now I think about it all the time.

I'm not completely sure what the difference is. Maybe its because the stakes seem so much higher in grad school. Maybe partially it's because if I failed in high school or college, well, so did lots of other people. The pressure was off, I suppose.

Not so in grad school.

Everyone else seems older, more experienced, more serious. They have read the New York Times every day for the past five years. They have opinions on what's going on. They are excited to get out there and do it, real reporting, real interviews. They intimidate me.

I, on the other hand, would rather spend my day blogging about Glee or what some starlet wore on the red carpet or Slankets than the revolution in the middle East or the tsunami in Japan. Not because I don't find the revolution interesting or newsworthy or important (and I realize Slankets are the opposite of all those adjectives), but I think because I so desperately want to put off the real world for a little bit longer.

I do love writing. I believe in writing. I love and believe in the power of words. I think you can express things that are hard and complex and scary through writing in a way you can't with speech alone (this post is proof - I have been trying and failing to verbalize these things lately).

And I honestly love my classes this semester. I love talking about current events, learning about online news and social media, analyzing writing, coming up with creative ways to say things... My professors are really inspiring and I feel like I'm learning a lot. It's just when I go out to the real world to actually implement what I've learned that I freeze. It's like have a mental block. I get overwhelmed and stressed and just retreat.

I don't know if this is the career for me. I don't know if I'm wasting my time and money in journalism school. But I also don't know what, if anything, I'd rather be doing. I want to write and I want to be successful and I just can't seem to figure out the path that takes me there.

This is the most conflicted I've been in a long long time. And it might be too serious and too personal. I feel kind of weird putting it all out there. But there it is.

study break

I am ten days, six classes, fifty minutes of teaching, one final edit of a profile piece,1,500 words of a feature article, one exam and untold hours of grading 21 papers away from being completely done with my first semester of graduate school.

This means one thing.

I cannot concentrate for more than an hour at a time on anything scholarly.
Seriously, the closer I get to finally being done, the less motivation I have to do anything. (Anything, that is, except surf etsy and facebook and amazon and youtube.) If you, too, need a massive distraction a short study break, feel free to peruse some of my favorites below:











The last option isn't as entertaining, but is extremely worthwhile and will probably make you cry.

grad school is not college

Across the street from our apartment is a freshman dormitory, where for the past several days, freshmen have been trickling in with their playstations and laundry hampers and extra-long sheets. Millsaps is already in full force, as evidenced by all the Facebook stati ("Toga! Toga!," "on the fourth day god created foam parties," etc).

I miss college.

Because as much as I'm attending college through my graduate program, I am not in college. I feel entirely separated from these leeetle freshmen buzzing around about what to wear to rush parties and how they like totally didn’t do the reading last night and "omg so then he texted ‘nice pants’ and I was like ‘what does that mean’ and he's totally flirting amIright???"

Although, I don’t so much miss that. Or this:

(an actual overheard conversation)
Promotional girl at giveaway stand: Want some [insert product name here]?!?! It’s a recovery drink, loaded with everything you need to get over a hangover!!
Freshman boy and girl: Sure!
Freshman girl to freshman boy: Now we HAVE to get drunk, you know, so we can test it out.

Ahhhh, yes. The days when we needed excuses to drink.

Millsaps vs. BU

Since I've been here in Boston, I've spent a lot of time admiring the huge beautiful school buildings with what I imagine are state-of-the-art classrooms and photoshop labs and other delicious things inside. But today I was reminded why Millsaps is still superior to big fancy schools with endowments and multiple majors and buildings that aren't falling down and such luxuries. Please compare with me.

My professor/boss introduced herself to her TAs today with the following:

"You should always call me Dean Smith*, Dr. Smith (as I do have a PHD), Professor Smith (as I am the main lecturer for this course), or some combination of those. What matters is that the freshman should never, ever think it is acceptable to call me Jane. There is a hierarchy that must be maintained."

And she's probably right. With 425 little pain-in-the-ass freshman under her tutelage, she needs some respectful distance. But at Millsaps things are different. Millsaps professors don’t give a rip about such “hierarchy.” They would never blink an eye at being called Anne, Sandra or Curtis. Or, for that matter, MacMac or the Griffster or some other ridiculous nickname.

I also can’t quite imagine Dean Dr. Professor Smith carrying on this conversation:

Me: (as I alphabetize daily Heritage response papers) “Hey Griff, do you actually read these things?”
Dr. Griffin: “Sometimes I do. One time a student wrote, ‘Fuck you, Griff, I know you don’t read these!’ and I took it into class, showed it to all the students and said “FUCK YOU YES I DO!’”

*names have been changed in the hopes that I don't lose my job