Many movie montages and character monologues will tell you life keeps moving; it is your job to watch it unfold and determine where you fit in. In rushing around like a good college student—being active on campus and doing more than just going to class—I have found I am trying to do exactly that. By watching what other people do and understanding what one is supposed to do in college, I am following in the footsteps of the proverbial college student.
I am working a low-paying, menial job because that is what broke students do. I am organizing events for clubs because I am pretty sure they did that in an episode of “Sister, Sister.” And I am studying abroad for a few weeks this summer—mostly because of the “Lizzie McGuire Movie.”
I recently had a hotly anticipated interview for a lab position I was gunning for. By the time I finally sat down across from my interviewer, I was shocked I had actually gotten this far. How had I successfully landed an interview? How did I write an e-mail that convinced a graduate student my semi-educated self was qualified? I may think I am under-prepared to do the things I sign myself up for, but other people seem to think I can handle it. This has fostered a new belief within me: Everyone who seems to know what they are doing likely feels as though they are running around like a chicken with its head cut off (pardon the gruesome idiom).
The similar type of shock was felt when I asked someone for help with an upcoming event. Suddenly it was obvious I was in a position of influence; the individual from whom information was being gleaned. I was regarded as a responsible person (at least, I hope so), and it was both an overwhelming and exciting development. I could not help but think, though, since when did I know how to lead meetings, and how will I wield this recently discovered power? So often I feel I am just acting the part of a trustworthy adult, going through the motions I observe those around me doing. Hopefully that will convince someone, maybe even me, of my worth. If this is what everyone else does to get by, we are running a collective scam on ourselves, but I am OK with that.
I have my tickets for study abroad booked, but who knows how I will fare once I get to France (assuming I get there at all)? And when I start working in the lab, I can only hope I will run an experiment correctly. It is like I am all dressed up and not only do I have nowhere to go, I do not even know how to walk in my heels. I should not be this hard on myself, though, for perhaps this is simply my way of living life on the edge. It is not exactly skydiving, but I am taking a chance at something—many things, actually—that require a leap of faith, and I am beginning to feel like I am jumping.
Are you the master of seeming like you have your shit together? Send tips to elindeman@wisc.edu.
