The Bucket List

While the movie starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman didn't exactly live up to the hype, at least in my opinion, one cannot deny the impact it had on the masses.  After its release, I challenge anyone to find someone who didn't sit down and formulate their own "bucket list."  

While death doesn't seem to be anywhere near my doorstep, a birthday of an unnerving age does.  This year marks a quarter-century of life for me, twenty-five years worth of loves, friendships, and a myriad of "interesting" experiences.  And after caving to a bit of nostalgia, I rifled through some old journals and came across a few lists I made the summer before I left for college.  I'd written about the places I would go after graduation, the stories I would be able to tell my grandchildren, the legacy I would leave behind for my kids to marvel over after my passing.  Having read through those lists and realizing I've accomplished only a few items, paired with the upcoming branding of "mid-twenties," I've proclaimed this year as "The Bucket Year."  This is the year that things get done.  And with that, I give you, in part, my own Bucket List.

1. Travel through Europe

2. Drive across the country

3. Learn Italian

4. Learn Spanish

5. Learn Portuguese

6. Go skydiving

7. Go bungee jumping

8. Learn how to bake...properly

9. Run a marathon

10. Compete in a tri-athalon

11. Watch the sun rise and set in the same day

12. Learn the constellations

13. Learn how to sail

14. Buy a house

15. Run through a town square causing all the pigeons to fly up en masse

16. Play paintball

17. Play lasertag

18. Go bowling in a prom dress

19. Make my own pickles

20. Make my own wine

21. Knit an entire blanket 

22. Learn to crochet

23. Write a book

24. Learn to play the guitar

25. Learn to play the piano

26. Learn to play the violin

27. Meet the President

28. Go to Africa

29. Travel through Australia

30. Spend a week on a yacht

31. Travel through Ireland

32. Start my own business

33. Read the Top 100 Most Influential Books of All Time

34. Help 10 random people each day for a year

35. Go a year without any alcohol

36. Try being a vegetarian for a year

The list goes on...

Outside the Box, One Toe At a Time

We've been told, since the very moment we could comprehend language and formulate cohesive statements, to think outside the box. We are supposed to look beyond the obvious and see the deeper layers. Many proverbs, fortune cookie messages, and clichéd phrases, have been devoted to just such a notion. The only problem is that this seemingly prophetic message is far too ambiguous for its own good. Which box are they talking about? Is it a big box? What color is it? What's in the box and who put it there?

There are so many rules and standards forced upon us from the instant we make our ascent into society's rigors. They are pushing and pulling us into conformity, supposedly for our own good. Countering that push, however, with just as much force, is the idea that we are to ignore the rules and break the traditional roles that were set in quasi-cemented language by people who knew nothing of the progress that we were to make. We are to force our way out of the boxes society placed us in, shatter the glass ceiling, break the moulds, and dance, march, or sing to the beat of our own percussion section. Clearly, individuality is a little more difficult than they first explained.

Those who dare to defy the societal norms dictated by the geniuses at American Eagle, Abercrombie, and Cosmo, are seemingly few in numbers. Those who challenge the sanctity of TRL trends and Orange County fashion laws appear to be the most daring of us all. But, of course, they too are given the incredible encumbrance of a stereotype. They defy the colorful mandates of Benetton by wearing the anti-color, black. They listen to music that screams of anguish, pain, and abandonment. They wear chains and talk of death and all things ill-fated, yet they, too, travel in packs, similar to the cliques that they speak out against so vehemently.

Inevitably, the conclusion stands that even the rebels and the individuals stand with those most like them, which leads to us to wonder how to define normality. Who decided the standards that determine who and what is normal? Most likely, the same people who put us in that impenetrable box when we were young.

One thing that those who push you to scratch, claw, and fight your way out of the box fail to mention is that it does not come in one easy swoop. Progress takes time. "You have to walk before you run," I believe is a popular phrase. While we may think that we have burst through the lid of that suffocating box, it takes a lot more effort to actually get your feet onto solid ground. Now that we have a little fresh air, thanks to the now-lidless box, the next step is to get a toe down on the ground. Which toe in particular is up to the individual, but progress comes in baby steps.

Feeling Nostalgic...

Feeling like I want to write something new without any inspiration as far as topic, I've found a happy resolution in the re-posting of columns from my tenure as Senior News Editor for the MCLA Beacon.  Enjoy!

Give Me a Newsstand Over a Kegstand

At what point do I stop being seen as the moronic college student who is only out to get drunk and party, and start being recognized for the hardworking, intelligent woman who is trying to succeed in life?  I think it’s a valid question, and yet, it is one that members of the College faculty refuse to answer.

As stated by the giant signs in the cafeteria, there are 90 some odd days standing between me and graduation.  I have earned 109 credits, not including this semester.  I have an excellent GPA, I am a member of multiple honor societies, and I work very hard to maintain that status.  However, none of this seems to matter, because I am only a college student. 

This semester, I am fortunate enough to only have to take one class.  This does not, however, mean that I can slack off the rest of the time because that time is fully consumed to the breaking point with the work that I do for the Beacon as well as a six credit internship I am doing at Mass MoCA.  I thought this would be the easiest semester of my life, and it has quickly turned out to be one of the most stressful.

When I went to register for classes for this semester, I had already applied to and been hired for the internship.  However, since it is not technically a class, I couldn’t register it with the rest of my schedule.  I had my paperwork already filled out and signed by all of the right people.  When I personally delivered it to Career Services before the winter break, I thought I would be all set.  I thought wrong.

I received a call last week from the Bursar’s Office informing me that I was only taking nine credits this semester, and that would not be enough to fulfill the graduation requirements in time for May commencement.  Alarmed and a little confused, I called back and said that I was actually taking 15 credits, and that my paperwork for my internship should be there to prove it.  I was polite, pleasant, and did nothing to upset or berate any faculty member that I thought was trying to help me.  However, the responses that I received from several of these so-called helpers were anything but pleasant or polite.

I was told that these individuals were doing everything for me and that, in essence, it was my fault that I was in this position.  It must be my fault because the College has never made a mistake ever.  They can do no wrong, so let’s blame it on the person who’s about to have a meltdown because they might not let her graduate because of two credits.  

Over the past four years, I have said that I love this school.  I have nothing but raving reviews for the English department, who have bent over backwards to make sure that their students are treated well and get the best education that can be offered.  In my encounters with other departments, whether through Beacon articles or other activities, I have had almost nothing but pleasant greetings and experiences.  I do love this college, and I do not regret coming here.  But it is encounters like this, where I am treated like an ignorant twelve year-old, who’s just now learning the times tables, that makes me wonder why I even bother.  What’s the point in trying to be articulate and mature if you’re only going to be seen as the opposite?  My age does not give you the right to speak down to me. 

I was raised with the notion that if you are nice and polite to someone, then they will reciprocate and be more inclined to help you.  As much as it pains me to say it, Mom was wrong.   It seems that no matter how much work I do, or how much effort I put in to being a polite and well-educated person, I will still only be seen as a young, stereotypical college co-ed, just looking for the next big party, waiting in line for a keg-stand.