I received a C on a paper earlier this week. I then proceeded to have a mini life crisis.
There are a number of things at which I don't excel - adding numbers in my head, pretending I like obscure bands, coordinating my hands and eyes - but writing a paper is not on this list. In fact, most of the time, I'm pretty sure the only thing I'm good at is writing papers.
But a C is not good. A C isn't even "average" in college because no one at this school where future writers, doctors, engineers and geniuses roam around, is average. Even an F would be preferable to a C. A definite and resounding F feels better than a maybe sort of C. A wishy-washy grade on an analytic essay! The horrid paradox left me reeling.
Enter the crisis. It started with the typical "what am I going to do with my life if I can't even get an A on a paper?" It ended with the typical "well, I obviously did not try hard enough so I'll try harder next time." As you can see, I have mini life crises fairly often. And I jump over them, and I talk myself down from my hostile pedestal of being better than the grade on my paper, and I talk myself into the humble acceptance that I am not a C, but that I am capable of creating a C.
OK, so if I had tried harder and put more time into the C paper, I would have gotten a better grade. Ultimately, I decided that I cannot try hard at a lot of things because then I would be doing more trying than doing.
After coming to this realization, I started rearranging my life. Most of this rearranging occurred in my head, but I still expected it to come to fruition. I decided I could no longer hang out with my friends in the Engineering School; our brains did not work the same way so we were not fit to be acquaintances. This dismissal, though, made me sad. I would have few guy friends left. But my brain continued the rearranging, and I didn't have long to mourn the loss.
Next to go were my friends interested in the Commerce School. They will make money one day, and I, as a freelance writer, will not. I no longer had anything to offer them.
I have a friend who majors in classics. She's good at Greek and Latin and ... math. Apparently she gets the language of other nations and of, well, math books. We've been friends since sixth grade, but even she was on my list of "people to whom I need to bid farewell."
My friends who have yet to declare a major or shake their heads sadly when I ask what they're going to do with their lives are still on my list of people with whom I can associate. We are all free to sit around in a circle and read books. Yes, I have forced books into the hands of my friends in this hypothetical situation because the way things are looking we might as well all be English majors.
I probably am going to be an English major. My main problem with this is that I've been planning on majoring in English since I could read. Well, there was a brief period where I really wanted to be a model. But I moved on quickly from the disappointing lack of inches. Does that make me boring? Am I not only limited in my scope of capabilities but also limited in my creativity? Isn't there something else I like?
As the rearranging stopped, I had another realization that was a bit less cynical than the previous one. I like lots of things apart from English. Heck, I don't actually like writing papers, I just like how my brain feels once I've whipped out an eloquent and comprehensive sentence - you math kids might not understand. I'm allowed to be really good at only one thing. I'm allowed to try really hard at several other things (see: C+ papers in political theory) and fail. That truth that I'm not a Renaissance woman will still hurt when I leave college and graduate school. I'll still wish I was more skilled at things that would earn me piles of money or at least help me count change.
I've decided to take back my friends. None of them knew that they were on my farewell list, but I'm still publicly accepting them back into my life. I've decided that I respect their talents enough that they can offer me conversations and yes, gifts if their bank accounts swell in the next five years. I can offer them something too: a really good story.
Connelly's column runs weekly Thursdays. She can be reached at c.hardaway@cavalierdaily.com.
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