Of Folly And Of Vice

I started college with a pretty outlandish hope: to be a world-renown journalist, a talking head, a best-selling author. I would cover stories that mattered, and make a difference by shining the light on injustices in my community, and eventually, in the larger world. I would do important, irreplaceable work.

These things changed in such an anti-climatic way. I remember sitting in front of the “J” School, waiting to talk to my academic adviser. I already knew what we were going to talk about: my grades weren’t good enough, I didn’t apply myself, I wasn’t going to succeed. What was my Plan B? It was a quiet morning, fall, leaves rushing and rustling across the Quad. There was no Plan B.

Why would I want to record the memory of my greatest disappointment? Why would I want to keep it close, to review it?

I had a plan. I had things worked out. It was all going to be there, spilling out in front of me. It was mine for the taking. I had done exceptionally well in high school. I was supposed to get to college, major in something high-minded and become successful. There was something bigger at work. This just had to be. This was my prayer. This was my mantra. There is something bigger at work. This just had to be.

And the truth was, it wasn’t working. I wasn’t trying particularly hard, but whatever talent I had was not translating. Speaking French to a room full of Russians.

I had one particularly difficult exchange with my J200 TA, in a coffee shop across the street from campus.

“Tell me what I did right, if anything, in this paper.”

“Well, this paragraph is pretty good.”

And then, crumpled copy paper in hand, I stormed back to my apartment, blaming her for ruining everything.

And then, I found myself in front of the J School, one of the absolute most respected in the country, thinking about crying. Crying for the poorly laid and executed plans of an 19 year old girl. Crying for the disappointment of not quite making it all the way to my dreams. Crying for being not quite good enough.

It was over. And I didn’t graduate from journalism school.