‘Tis The Season

It’s that time of year again. Every ad on TV has a new spin on Santa or the perfect gift of the season. Even though it seems far too warm (for my East-coast self) to declare it the holidays, the houses decked in golden twinkly lights and pop-up Christmas tree lots have decided otherwise. My Spotify has started suggesting the ‘Holiday Hits’ playlists again, but it feels hard to get into a festive spirit when I glance at my planner.

Every day that my countdown-to-home calendar ticks down, my stress levels rise as it means one day closer to home, but one day fewer to finish the remaining mountain of papers, projects and finals. The more I stare at my planner, the less and less plausible it seems that there enough hours left to get everything done. Along with thinking about internships, study abroad and staying on top of extracurricular commitments, I’m sort of searching for the “pause” button on the world (and cursing the evil-Kermit inside me who thought it would be okay for me to take a break over Thanksgiving).

evil-kermit-the-frog-meme-dark-side

Me: You should start getting ahead over the Thanksgiving holiday. Me to me: “You’ll have plenty of time after break. Ignore it all.”

Not gonna lie, I reached that time of year when I found myself in a professor’s office, reaching for the blurry outline of a Kleenex box through barely-suppressed tears. Partially because I was confused about the assignment, but mostly because I had let myself think about everything due for the rest of the semester at once.

Seeing page after page of inevitable work stack up and loom over me at once is a great recipe for me to curl up in bed in the fetal position, scrolling through BuzzFeed until I’ve mindlessly absorbed every article and Tasty video published in the last week.

New plan. As unreliable as Post-It notes may be as an agenda, I needed to break down projects into smaller parts. A tip slightly stolen from my wonderful roommate, I took a sticky for each project so I could see it on its own, and broke the project down into smaller parts. Smaller blocks makes it a little easier for me to see progress without drowning in everything all at once.

If online is more your thing, Trello is also an awesome tool to make due dates seem less daunting. It allows you to create cards or checklists for each element of a project that you can color code and “cross off” your list each time you complete a part of the list. Something about the fact that it’s an app makes the agenda look more fun and less-frenzy inducing than my planner sometimes does.

Breaking everything down into bits helps, but not nearly as much as being surrounded by a supportive environment. The positive Post-It notes scattered around Toll are a tiny reminder that it’s all going to work out, and that I am truly lucky to be in this space, as stressful as it feels in this moment. Friends and bosses at work have made sure to remind me that grades do not define you, that the majority of campus is also in a similar state, and that it will be break very, very soon.

We’ll make it through the next few weeks, even if it’s just one little step at a time. In the meantime, I’ll trying to play a few Christmas carols to try and channel that positive holiday spirit (maybe interspersed with my serious studying playlist?).

 

High School Project Turned Dream Job?

My sophomore year in high school, my best friend and I got the grand idea to start our own vintage clothing boutique. It was prompted by a mandatory project, but we wanted to create something different from the myriad of plain poster presentations. We set out to complete a project that was not only beneficial to our community, but also something that was a joy, not a chore, to create and carry out.

Our weekly outings to the dingy local thrift store with no dressing room, where we tried on shorts under maxi skirts three sizes too big, originally didn’t seem to be more than a place for us to find unique clothes at ridiculously cheap prices.

The afternoons we spent cutting boy’s Levi’s into high-waisted denim shorts and hemming shirts into crop tops were always too fun to feel like work – the Arcade Fire record playing in the background, eating bowls of Ben & Jerry’s and complaining about boys as we sorted through the plastic shopping bag full of $2 jeans, massive dresses and quirky t-shirts made the event too casual to be a transferrable job skill.

But we decided to try doing what we did for fun–updating thrifted clothing into pieces we would actually wear–into a job, if just for a few weeks. We created an Etsy shop, a calendar of deadlines for the project to make sure we would have sold clothes by the culmination of the project in the spring. We meticulously kept track of how much we spent on materials, tried to fairly price all of the shorts, skirts, scrunchies and accessories, advertised our “brand,” Threads, on Facebook and Instagram, and got to work making clothes not just for ourselves as we avoided homework, but for ‘work.’

Thinking back on that spring of my sophomore year, I realize that was probably my dream job. Of course, it wasn’t a real job, (the location of the ‘boutique’ where we ended up selling the clothes to our friends was her parents’ basement) but if it were to be a real job, I’d definitely sign myself again in a heartbeat.

I spent hours with my best friend, doing what we probably would have spent the afternoon doing anyways. I had the freedom to be creative and mess around, and I always had my best friend at my side if I ever hacked off two inches too many of a skirt’s hem or needed to know if a dress I thought we could sell was ugly or cute. And I even got to go shopping regularly in the name of new inventory!

Honestly, the hardest part was having to be responsible for the entire project. I remember wishing repeatedly that someone would hold me accountable for the deadlines we had set, or a superior had more clearly outlined what steps would lead to a most successful end project. Selling clothing online was a hassle neither of us had realized we had signed ourselves up for, and advertising was always done so last-minute it was practically too late.

When we finally opened our pop-up boutique, after dozens of friends and family browsed through the racks of our clothes, we had made nearly $500 for a local charity in an afternoon, and also proved to ourselves that we were capable of carrying out a project from start to finish that we didn’t dread.

It may have been a little on the early side, but this experience gave me truly helpful insight into what I want in a workplace. Regardless of whether or not I can ever do something similar to this in my professional career, I hope it can be filled with supportive coworkers (or best friends), a laid-back atmosphere, and creativity–with a good dose of structure mixed in, too.

One Step at a Time

Sometimes, it can feel like there just isn’t time to take anything else on. With midterms, papers, course registration, study abroad applications, club meetings and more, I have been putting off my summer plans like the plague. It was a near-monumental effort to simply register for an appointment to meet with CP&R.

I walked into the CP&R office unsure of what I really wanted and already anxious about my summer and beyond.

But I am so glad I did! CP&R is here to help get the ball rolling, and even though I can be a stubborn source of friction, talking with Rachael helped me outline a clear set of next steps to think about the future. Making a LinkedIn, taking a few career assessments, reaching out to contacts I have already built to discuss their paths. Deconstructing the huge question of “what on earth do I want to be doing” into a bunch of smaller, less threatening tasks, made thinking ahead seem instantly more manageable.  

She deconstructed the informational interview (the sound of which make me a little panicked) in a heartbeat. Instead of imagining an informational interview as a huge imposition and drain on a professional’s time, it is an opportunity for them to share their story.

“If someone asked you how you reached Scripps, would it feel like a burden to share your story?”

My immediate answer was of course not, I would love to talk to anyone considering Scripps. Having that lens through which to understand the informational interview made it slightly less scary.

Of course, agreeing to these steps in the cheery comfort of the CP&R office was not the same as actually carrying out every step of the plan. But I jotted the steps down in my planner, knowing they shouldn’t be pushed to the back burner any longer.

I drafted a list of contacts to reach out to, sent an email to a family connection, and let her know I was interested in hearing her story as an English major now in the environmental field. Anxiously, I waited for the email, halfway not wanting a response just in case it came with a response other than the one I was hoping for.  

Thankfully, I woke up the next morning to an enthusiastic email hoping to set up plans for coffee when I return home for winter break. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Her casual tone and willingness to meet with me made me feel as though, perhaps, I have been a bit over distressed when it comes to the informational interview.

I am so thankful to CP&R for making sure I got the ball rolling. Now, I am building a list of other contacts to reach out to, and making a LinkedIn (just as soon as I have a good portrait). It felt like a momentous task to think about future plans, but it truly takes a slew of little steps. Getting in the habit of making this a part of my routine will be a bit of a challenge, but I know my future self with thank me for it!

Clueless Course Registration

It feels like just the other day I called home in tears as I scrolled through the Portal on my laptop to pick classes for my second semester. I couldn’t fathom how to pick the four classes that would lead me to the elusive perfect major and passion of my dreams. I refreshed the portal in a panic, watching in despair as all of my chosen classes filled to the brim.

As my first-choice options dwindled away, one by one, a new wave of terror flooded over me as I realized that I had to put myself through another round of choices, this time factoring in those that had any space remaining.  

I randomly scrolled through the most disparate reaches of the portal, browsing through every single option of the dropdown “Course Area” menu to make sure I had left no stone unturned.

Of course, this left me feeling not only overwhelmed with options, but also with the looming fear that I would make a wrong choice. I had no declared major, no four year plan, a good-hearted (but distracted) advisor, and no schedule.

In the end, I followed the advice I had heard on loop from my advisor–“Fulfill your GEs!” I managed to sign up for courses that all fulfilled GEs, despite the fact that I wasn’t sure how interested I was in them. Environmental? Econ? Anthropology?

I was halfway trying to listen to the suggestions of my family and friends–to take classes I thought sounded interesting–but I felt too grounded in what seemed ‘practical’ and also, honestly, scared to take the classes too far out of my comfort zone.

So, second semester, I had a schedule that checked off a whole lot of the boxes that needed to be filled before I could graduate, but little headway on a major. Maybe I should have pushed myself more to try a class I didn’t feel seasoned enough to be in. Or maybe I should have pushed harder to get into that class I for which I was waitlisted.

But, it turns out that the world of the registrar had other things in store for me. Due to a professor’s unexpected leave, my Core II class was cancelled. My whole schedule was up in the air again as I tried to pick a Core that was still open, didn’t conflict with my other classes, and sounded intriguing. It was a bit of a mess. I ended up in a Core that was less humanities focused that I would have liked, and only managed at the last second to swap into the Core I had originally hoped to be in, taught by an English professor.

And honestly, it was my favorite class. As exasperated as I was at the time, having to pick a whole other set of classes, I am so glad it happened. If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have taken a class that made me feel as though my contributions were valuable to class discussion, a class I always looked forward to and where it suddenly wasn’t daunting to speak up. The class not only helped establish my voice and confidence as a student, but also truly helped me understand what I enjoyed doing.

It led me to take my first real English class this semester, and as indecisive as I am, professors have been so supportive and let me know that I am making a valid choice.

With the spring semester Scripps course catalogue just released, I am actually looking forward to choosing my classes, instead of desperately looking for anything that might be vaguely interesting to me, or even just open. So, next time a class is full or my schedule gets turned upside down, I’ll remember that it’s not always a bad thing–just a time to really consider what I think could be a step in the right direction.

Major Major Stress

So I’ve already mentioned once or twice (or a million times) that thinking about a major majorly freaks me out.

As I signed up for a Fall Break OTL trip to Joshua Tree, I figured the title of ‘JChillin’ would mean a nice break from campus and a respite from the constant questions about my future from various faraway friends and family members.

But I naively overlooked the fact that I was on a 48 hour camping trip with thirteen people I knew nothing about, and who knew nothing about me. And what better way to make small talk on a two hour drive or nine mile hike than to ask the innocuous, “What’s your major?” Even I fell into the trap a few times while trying to make conversation.

The question wasn’t too hard at first. I would mechanically reply, “I’m still undeclared, but probably English…?” and my hiking buddy would nod approvingly before moving on to the next segment of small talk.

I had almost made it to the clear, and could see myself simply spouting my stock reply forever–until the car ride home. Covered in dirt, three shades darker from the desert sun than I had been two days prior, dreaming of In-N-Out and on the verge of a nap, I heard the question I had been shirking one more time. Before I had time to think of a reply, “Oh, probably English but I’m technically undeclared” floated from my lips. I figured that would be enough to satisfy my backseat neighbor, and breathed a sigh of relief. Too soon.

Instead, I heard a follow up question that I had never even considered, “And what is your favorite period of literature to study?”

I was dumbfounded. If I could have dissolved into the drab upholstery of the CR-V’s backseat, I would have. I could barely stammer out a reply, but my mind was racing.

I don’t have a favorite period of literature? Do I need to have a favorite period of literature? What even are the periods of literature I could choose from? Does this mean I’m an uncultured swine? Should I pick a different major? Do I even know anything at all about English as a field of study?

As I tried to cover up my ignorance, I mumbled a half-coherent and half-relevant answer about my favorite author. My cheeks burned and I prayed we would reach Claremont before the seemingly harmless questions further shattered my confidence.

Thankfully, the conversation moved onto fast food, math geniuses, lobster dinners and sports, but the question was burned into my mind. As soon as I got back to campus, I frantically sent an email to my English professor to get a better understanding of what it means to be an English major. Hopefully I didn’t sound too desperate – and hopefully I won’t feel as mortified walking out of our meeting as I did during that car ride!