This past Friday I had an appointment with a guidance counselor up at the university. I had originally tried to schedule one with my usual “Undeclared Major” department, which I’m sure is full of all sorts of folk who have a hard time picking which cereal to eat in the morning. I’m not only a member… I’m the club president! When I called, though, the chic who answered was sure that I needed to make an appointment with a counselor in whose department I was thinking of majoring. “You’ll like get so much more help… like… I ate Frosted Flakes this morning!” That put me on the spot, because I’ve really only had 34 years to decide what I wanted to do when I grow up… way to put on the pressure, chiquita burrita. 😛 I blurted out that she should transfer me to the English counselor’s office. English is real safe. I speak it daily…. except for that year when pig latin was big at the middle school. The lady in the English counselor’s office insisted I become even more specific because there were at least 3 different branches of an English major and each branch had a different counselor. Oh Miracle Whip on the Sahara, people… who do you think I am? Anne Landers? I asked her to go through my choices of
cereal English majors… English teacher… English – Creative Writing… English – Technical Writing. I think there was one more, but the fact that I don’t remember what it was means that I wouldn’t be good at it.
Let’s be honest… I would rather dump a pile of cow crap on my noggin than stand in front of a class of kids or teenagers… Teaching… OUT! Secondly, pretty sure the last time I became rich creative writing was… oh… NEVER! PASS. That left me with Technical Writing, so I blurted that one out and then asked if she had a bowl of Wheaties on hand. Boring and bland… blah, blah, blah, blah. It’s the technical word that makes me want to put my head through a brick wall. I was determined to make the most of my appointment, though. I went in with an open mind and an empty wallet (stupid wrists are expensive, yo!). The counselor was super nice… she talked 8000 words per minute, which might be a requirement for writing technically, but I’m not sure. Before I knew it, an hour had passed and I was walking out of her office with a print out of my hypothetical schedule for the next FOUR years… that’s how long it will take me to get a degree if I go part time, every semester, including summer. I did the math… in 4 years I will be pruning in the eye regions and will probably need a walker to walk around outside campus in the winter. Who am I kidding… I needed a walker to walk around in the winter at the age of 12…. stupid clutz genes! Oh yeah…. she also told me that there was not an online program for such a degree, so I’d need to take classes on campus.
To sum it up… I’m now the semi-proud owner of a technically boring major… but I’m still going in with an open mind. The classes I need to take this fall will determine whether or not I’ll love or hate the topic… I’m crossing my fingers for semi-like. I can handle that.
Question of the Day: Did you enjoy what you chose to major in?
PS – Thank you, again, to the family and friends who came to see me last week. I appreciated your sweetness in going out of your way to make this chic smile… and that be the truth!