Apparently Oxford and its 75 page readings lists were not nearly as time consuming as I remembered them to be. Upon arriving at Wellesley and entering the dreaded biology lab, which I had stealthily avoided for the last three years, I was reminded why I never became a science major– I actually want a life.
Since Tuesday, the start of my lover’s quarrel with SCI Room 384, I have shirked by blogging responsibilities, and instead embraced a world of Excel histograms and bar graphs. In place of drinking copious amounts of caffeine and documenting each cup, I am now bound to a room in a building that I had nightmares about as a first-year– the most frightful involving a snake experiment gone awry and an anaconda on the loose.
And those few minutes I manage to escape the confines of the center, which eerily resembles a 1920s insane asylum, I stare blankly at a computer screen, trying to form a convincing argument as to why a committee of intellectuals should grant me an exorbitant amount of money to traverse the globe, commitment free. Thus far, I can honestly say I am failing. Which is odd, as I know I am not ready to make the 9-5 work day shift just quite yet. Perhaps I need another few cups of java to clear my head, or at least give me a small inspirational adrenaline rush.
In the meantime, or in the spare moment I now have, let me offer my Jewish New Year Resolution. And no, it does not involve a new weight loss program or commitment to finding a husband. Those ships have sailed, and I’m waving at them from the dock. My resolution, aptly numbered 5771, as that is the year on the Jewish calendar, is to learn to apply the lessons learned from my time in England to my Wellesley experience.
Thus far, I have failed to do so. Let me offer an illustration: It’s Tuesday night. I have completed my first day of class, and instead of drinking in the pub with every other legal senior, I am staring at an Excel spreadsheet, contemplating historical means of heart rates per minute. Simply stated, I am obsessing over my bio lab homework, which counts for 0.012% of my entire Human Biology grade. Yes, I am obsessive compulsive enough to have calculated the percentage, and even after having completed said calculation, to still be obsessing over the data on the screen.
The Oxford version of myself would have given the assignment– at max– an hour. Whatever I completed at that point of time would have been submitted, and then I would have spent the latter portion of the night in Anna’s flat, cooking and eating and laughing. Perhaps we would have even downed a foofy cocktail or two.
Now given Wellesley is a dry town and my grades at Wellesley may well determine whether I get into my dream law school [whose identity shall for now remain a secret], I am content to live without the excessive amounts of alcohol. However, I want must learn to be satisfied with the degree of effort I invested in my work at Oxford, in Wellesley as well. I am a perfectionist, and this year, I intend to let that part of me go, ala Gone With the Wind, but hopefully minus the bloody four year civil war bit.
For those of you who know me in a non-cyber sense, you will be well-aware of the fact that this is the most challenging goal I have ever set for myself. To accomplish this feat, I may have to sacrifice some of my Starbucks– which fuels my drive to perfection by providing me with a constant supply of energy and cocoa beans.
I am willing to make the change, though; to acknowledge that I have a problem– I place too much emphasis on numbers and letters, and too little emphasis on personal/spiritual (in a non-drug induced sense) growth. I have less than one year until I enter the real world. Let the under-caffeinated games begin.