Worried Leads to Happy Leads to Nervous … Or my experience with the Hunger Games.
I’ve been working at the Sylvan Lake library for a few months now. I’ve seen and read several new books that I really liked, hogged the ones that I loved, and complained about the ones that were terrible (sorry, Gerch, but I just can’t take your book seriously. At all.).
Since getting nominated for one of my fan fictions (which I won 1st place for, woot!), I’ve been trying to spend more time writing. I’ve been neglecting my writing since school started, and I started working part-time, and all this bullshit with my adopted brother hit the fan. I have always loved writing, but lately it’s been seeming like a chore - so much easier to just plop in a movie and fall asleep. (I know, I suck.)
Anyways, for some time now, I’ve been hearing about this book trilogy called “The Hunger Games”. My workmates have been talking it up like there’s no tomorrow. I hadn’t decided if I was going to read it, though, until I saw a preview for the upcoming movie. The preview looked awesome enough for me to want to watch the movie. Since I’m the kind of person who hates when books get made into movies - ‘cause they ALWAYS leave too much out/change too much - I decided I’d at least have to read the series first.
Ooh boy … I have not gotten much sleep in the last few days.
I took the first book home from the library on Friday, and started reading it Sunday. I finished it after work Monday, and just about screamed at the cliffhanger ending. What the FRACK???? How could you do this to me, Suzanne Collins? I did not have the second and third books! How cruel!!!
After I settled down, and my dog stopped staring at me like I was crazy, I told myself that I would just grab the second and third book from the library, knowing that we had both of them in our collection. Good idea in theory, but of course BOTH of the books were signed out. Grr …
Enter my awesome workmate. I had requested the books, and the third one came in on the van run (explanation: one a week we send books to and receive from other libraries), but not the second! I would have to restrain myself from reading the third book until the second came in, which could be up to two weeks! Restraint is not my middle name. I can’t imagine a time I’ve ever successfully used restraint (with the possible exception of hunting down my adopted brother’s biological mother and bludgeoning her to death … I’m not AT ALL bitter). Luckily, I did not have to test my non-existent restraint. My workmate went home for her break, and came back with the second book. Love. Complete and utter love. I may have to bake her cookies, or something.
Anywhoo, that was yesterday. I finished the second book at one o’clock in the morning. I loved it. But I was also feeling a bit worried.
So many parts of the Hunger Games (the woman warrior, the girl protecting her younger sibling, the father that died when she was young, the primitive weapons, the barbaric fighting, the love triangle, the three-novel series - to name a few things) ARE SO MUCH LIKE MY NOVEL! Obviously there are some major differences, but I couldn’t help seeing the parallels. I started overanalyzing, like I always do: “I thought my novel was so original, but then there’s this. And it came first! Who would want to read my novel, when they have this?” Worry, worry, worry.
But then I stopped. “Hang on … this novel has done really well. Everyone loves it. It ends with three. My novel isn’t EXACTLY like The Hunger Games, but it shares a lot of aspects that people like. Maybe this isn’t so bad … maybe this means people will LOVE my novel!” And so, my worry turned sharply to happy. I started thinking about finishing up the editing in my novel, and trying to publish it.
And then the happy turned to nervous. “Oh, jeeze … published. Actually putting my work out there. For people to actually … read.” Sure, I’ve just won an award for one of my fan fictions, but that’s just that: “fan fiction”. Me playing with someone else’s work. It was the first time I’d ever received outside praise for my work, other than people reviewing my stories. The workmate that leant me the book was the first person to read my fan fictions, and then comment on them to my face. She said she loved it, but I nearly died when she told me.
How am I going to cope if I actually get published? I might just have to curl up in a cold, dark corner and die.
But, at some point, I’m going to have to stop hypothesizing about what might happen when I get published. My novel has been finished for a year. I’ve been writing since I was six years old, it has always been my biggest dream. I’m making enough money now that I could consider self-publishing … Oh boy. Even typing those words is making me nervous. At some point, I’m going to have to take that leap. Put my work out there, see what people think. It’s terrifying. It’s enough to make me want to close my laptop, and never type a single word again.
But, I can’t. I’m addicted. Writing it my drug. Reviews are my heroin. Worried. Happy. Nervous. Bouncing between the emotions like a ping pong ball.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll pull out my novel, finish the editing, and send it to my friend to do illustrations. Tomorrow I’ll decide between self publishing, and traditional. Tomorrow I’ll get off my ass, and stop being an “aspiring” writer. Tomorrow.
Today, I have the third Hunger Games novel to finish. And it had better be good.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Progress Report for the Post-Secondary Education of Corrie Brown
This was an assignment for my COMM class that I decided to post as a blog. Hopefully I don't come off as too bitter ...
Three short years ago, I enrolled in my first semester of college; four on-campus classes, and one practicum. I was two years out of high school, and the options were simple: get a job, or go to school. I chose the lesser of two evils.
While initially preferring to take Psychology, I was told that I did not have the pre-requisites to enter the degree program. After following shoddy advice from a home economics teacher (lesson learned), I chose to switch out of Pure Math and into Applied Math, since I would only require Math 20 - of any kind - to graduate. I completed Applied Math 20, and graduated high school on schedule. Two years later, I was informed that to get a degree in Psychology, I would need Pure Math 30 on my transcripts; there being a statistics course in the degree program, after all. That was awesome …
Giving up my dream - temporarily - of Psychology, I decided to switch to Early Learning and Child Care. It was only a two-year program, and in that time I could upgrade my math. Sounds like a plan, right?
I applied for my funding, nervous about the cost of tuition and books, and was pleasantly surprised when I was approved for $3000.00 per semester. After being forced to quit my lovely cashier’s job at Walmart for having excessive Strep Throat, Candida, and an overall lack of desire to be there, 3000 bucks for three months of school sounded pretty awesome. Paying off student loans? I’d just deal with that later.
First day of class came and went, leaving me feeling a little less nervous after discovering that my teacher was an old classmate’s mom. I made a few friends, won a gift certificate door prize, and went home with a cheery “First Day of College” poster. I wasn’t crazy about my actual classes, but college seemed fun so far.
My classes seemed relatively easy, but I was concerned about my practicum. Two days a week with some twenty-odd kids I’d never met? A tad nerve-wracking. Having to have an activity ready to go, for my very first day? Terrifying. I chose to defer my practicum, wanting to get a little knowledge under my belt before confronting the mass of snotty noses and “why” questions. Yet another decision I ended up regretting, but we’ll get to that later.
I dropped one class by the add-drop date, though I should have dropped two. Unfortunately, with it being my first semester of college, I wasn’t acquainted with the “proper channels”, so to speak. We had recently moved out to Sylvan Lake, and even though we’d filled out our Change of Address forms, some of our mail was still going to our old address. I lost two tax credit checks, as well as my official High School Transcripts. I was told by the registrars that I only needed to take COMM 150 if I didn’t have a mark above 60 in English 30. Once they got my transcripts, I would be taken out of the class. … Their exact words: “I would be taken out of the class”. To a first-year college student, that meant they would sort it all out once they got my transcripts. I didn’t attend a single COMM 150 class, because I knew my English 30-1 grade was well above 60. It was over a year later that I discovered I was never taken out of COMM 150, and as a result, had an F on my college transcripts. I was less than pleased, but that was only the beginning.
After completing my first year of Early Learning and Child Care - and discovering that my first practicum was certainly nothing to fear - I was genuinely excited about the turn my life was taking. It turned out I was actually kind of awesome at taking care of/playing with children. It’s a lot easier hearing things like “is there a baby in your belly?” and “do you have chicken pox?” from children, than it is from your peers. I loved that children had no censor button; I loved their limitless curiosity about the world around them.
I knew that I would have to complete a couple first year courses before I could receive my certificate - my second practicum, as well as Guiding Behavior (ELCC 217). At our year-end pizza party, I made time to speak to the Chair of my program about doing some spring courses. That was when I got the bombshell about my COMM course. “There seems to be a problem with your transcripts, Corrie,” she told me. “You don’t have a COMM course completed.” My response was simply, “I don’t need to take COMM 150, I had well over 60 in English 30.” She stared at me like I was an alien. “Yes, but you still need to have a COMM course to complete your first year. It’s part of the program.” My reaction was not, shall we say, admirable. Quite frankly, I blew a gasket. I yelled and screamed, and all-but tore my hair out. “Are you sh--ing me? Why the hell can’t anyone at this college give me a straight f---ing answer? Everyone has two different sets of information, how the hell am I expected to know which way is up!” I went on and on. I was told that I could take a COMM course in the spring, and be ready to start my second year in the fall. I was annoyed - to say the least - but I agreed.
I decided to take COMM 250 - I didn’t need to learn basic grammar and sentence structure, I’d done that in primary school. COMM 250 was a nice break from the rest of my studies. It seemed as though I was one of the few students in the class who knew the difference between “you’re” and “your”. Our teacher took us to online postings and dating sites, where we mocked the poster’s horrible spelling and grammar. I was in heaven. I completed my second practicum in the spring, and got the required COMM course on my transcripts. Everything seemed to be on schedule.
Is anything ever that easy?
Once our second year started up, I had to have a discussion with the new Chair. Yes, I’d completed my second practicum, and yes, I’d completed my COMM course, but I still had Guiding Behavior 217 to complete. It was against protocol to be enrolled in any second-year courses when the first-year courses weren’t completed. I managed to restrain my temper tantrum this time, but just barely. After some fist-and-jaw clenching, I worked it out with the Chairperson that I would defer my practicum and drop one second-year class, while still maintaining my three-course requirement for a full-time student loan. I was informed that I would be on something akin to academic probation, where the Chairperson and my teachers would be keeping an eye on my progress in their classes, and once the withdrawal date came close, they would decide if my grades were such that I could continue regularly, or if I would need to withdraw from my classes. This seemed to be reasonable, until I found out a student in a similar situation as me was allowed to take her practicum, as well as all of her second-year courses.
I completed all of my courses for the semester - successfully - and was ready to complete my last course and practicum in the Fall 2011 semester. I discovered that I could take my last class online, was assured that I would get a practicum in Sylvan Lake, and was finally enrolled in psychology. (Insert next rant here: I also discovered when registering for my third-year classes, that I didn’t actually need Pure Math 30 at the start of my psychology courses, after all. I could upgrade as I went. Two years later, I get this information. Isn’t that awesome?) Anyway, I was registered and ready to go for the semester, when I heard back from my local library. I had applied for a job there, and they wanted to interview me. I was ecstatic - first because it was one of my childhood dream jobs, and also because I hadn’t had a real job since Walmart - and eagerly attended the interview. I got the job a few days later. All that was left was to work out my schedule. They were willing to work around my school schedule, I just hoped that my practicum was as well.
Enter the next hurdle in my career as a student. In order to be in my final practicum, I would need to commit to Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm. As understanding as the library was, they weren’t willing to be that flexible with my schedule. Three years down the road, and I was faced with the same decision once again: get a job, or go to school. This time, though, I wanted both.
In the end, it was more important for me to be working, than it was to complete my last practicum. I dropped the practicum and registered for COMM 150 - ready to wipe that ridiculous F off my transcripts - so that I could keep my three-course requirement for a full-time loan. Now it’s November, and the semester is just about over.
I’ve come a long way since my first semester at Red Deer College. I’ve learned not to trust anything unless I’ve heard it from at least three different “professionals”, I’ve learned that I have a fierce love for children, and that part-time schooling is definitely the way to go. Most of all, I’ve found my once-lost love for education. Will my built-up loans be worth it in the end? I don’t know. Right now, I’m loving it, and that’s all that matters.
Three short years ago, I enrolled in my first semester of college; four on-campus classes, and one practicum. I was two years out of high school, and the options were simple: get a job, or go to school. I chose the lesser of two evils.
While initially preferring to take Psychology, I was told that I did not have the pre-requisites to enter the degree program. After following shoddy advice from a home economics teacher (lesson learned), I chose to switch out of Pure Math and into Applied Math, since I would only require Math 20 - of any kind - to graduate. I completed Applied Math 20, and graduated high school on schedule. Two years later, I was informed that to get a degree in Psychology, I would need Pure Math 30 on my transcripts; there being a statistics course in the degree program, after all. That was awesome …
Giving up my dream - temporarily - of Psychology, I decided to switch to Early Learning and Child Care. It was only a two-year program, and in that time I could upgrade my math. Sounds like a plan, right?
I applied for my funding, nervous about the cost of tuition and books, and was pleasantly surprised when I was approved for $3000.00 per semester. After being forced to quit my lovely cashier’s job at Walmart for having excessive Strep Throat, Candida, and an overall lack of desire to be there, 3000 bucks for three months of school sounded pretty awesome. Paying off student loans? I’d just deal with that later.
First day of class came and went, leaving me feeling a little less nervous after discovering that my teacher was an old classmate’s mom. I made a few friends, won a gift certificate door prize, and went home with a cheery “First Day of College” poster. I wasn’t crazy about my actual classes, but college seemed fun so far.
My classes seemed relatively easy, but I was concerned about my practicum. Two days a week with some twenty-odd kids I’d never met? A tad nerve-wracking. Having to have an activity ready to go, for my very first day? Terrifying. I chose to defer my practicum, wanting to get a little knowledge under my belt before confronting the mass of snotty noses and “why” questions. Yet another decision I ended up regretting, but we’ll get to that later.
I dropped one class by the add-drop date, though I should have dropped two. Unfortunately, with it being my first semester of college, I wasn’t acquainted with the “proper channels”, so to speak. We had recently moved out to Sylvan Lake, and even though we’d filled out our Change of Address forms, some of our mail was still going to our old address. I lost two tax credit checks, as well as my official High School Transcripts. I was told by the registrars that I only needed to take COMM 150 if I didn’t have a mark above 60 in English 30. Once they got my transcripts, I would be taken out of the class. … Their exact words: “I would be taken out of the class”. To a first-year college student, that meant they would sort it all out once they got my transcripts. I didn’t attend a single COMM 150 class, because I knew my English 30-1 grade was well above 60. It was over a year later that I discovered I was never taken out of COMM 150, and as a result, had an F on my college transcripts. I was less than pleased, but that was only the beginning.
After completing my first year of Early Learning and Child Care - and discovering that my first practicum was certainly nothing to fear - I was genuinely excited about the turn my life was taking. It turned out I was actually kind of awesome at taking care of/playing with children. It’s a lot easier hearing things like “is there a baby in your belly?” and “do you have chicken pox?” from children, than it is from your peers. I loved that children had no censor button; I loved their limitless curiosity about the world around them.
I knew that I would have to complete a couple first year courses before I could receive my certificate - my second practicum, as well as Guiding Behavior (ELCC 217). At our year-end pizza party, I made time to speak to the Chair of my program about doing some spring courses. That was when I got the bombshell about my COMM course. “There seems to be a problem with your transcripts, Corrie,” she told me. “You don’t have a COMM course completed.” My response was simply, “I don’t need to take COMM 150, I had well over 60 in English 30.” She stared at me like I was an alien. “Yes, but you still need to have a COMM course to complete your first year. It’s part of the program.” My reaction was not, shall we say, admirable. Quite frankly, I blew a gasket. I yelled and screamed, and all-but tore my hair out. “Are you sh--ing me? Why the hell can’t anyone at this college give me a straight f---ing answer? Everyone has two different sets of information, how the hell am I expected to know which way is up!” I went on and on. I was told that I could take a COMM course in the spring, and be ready to start my second year in the fall. I was annoyed - to say the least - but I agreed.
I decided to take COMM 250 - I didn’t need to learn basic grammar and sentence structure, I’d done that in primary school. COMM 250 was a nice break from the rest of my studies. It seemed as though I was one of the few students in the class who knew the difference between “you’re” and “your”. Our teacher took us to online postings and dating sites, where we mocked the poster’s horrible spelling and grammar. I was in heaven. I completed my second practicum in the spring, and got the required COMM course on my transcripts. Everything seemed to be on schedule.
Is anything ever that easy?
Once our second year started up, I had to have a discussion with the new Chair. Yes, I’d completed my second practicum, and yes, I’d completed my COMM course, but I still had Guiding Behavior 217 to complete. It was against protocol to be enrolled in any second-year courses when the first-year courses weren’t completed. I managed to restrain my temper tantrum this time, but just barely. After some fist-and-jaw clenching, I worked it out with the Chairperson that I would defer my practicum and drop one second-year class, while still maintaining my three-course requirement for a full-time student loan. I was informed that I would be on something akin to academic probation, where the Chairperson and my teachers would be keeping an eye on my progress in their classes, and once the withdrawal date came close, they would decide if my grades were such that I could continue regularly, or if I would need to withdraw from my classes. This seemed to be reasonable, until I found out a student in a similar situation as me was allowed to take her practicum, as well as all of her second-year courses.
I completed all of my courses for the semester - successfully - and was ready to complete my last course and practicum in the Fall 2011 semester. I discovered that I could take my last class online, was assured that I would get a practicum in Sylvan Lake, and was finally enrolled in psychology. (Insert next rant here: I also discovered when registering for my third-year classes, that I didn’t actually need Pure Math 30 at the start of my psychology courses, after all. I could upgrade as I went. Two years later, I get this information. Isn’t that awesome?) Anyway, I was registered and ready to go for the semester, when I heard back from my local library. I had applied for a job there, and they wanted to interview me. I was ecstatic - first because it was one of my childhood dream jobs, and also because I hadn’t had a real job since Walmart - and eagerly attended the interview. I got the job a few days later. All that was left was to work out my schedule. They were willing to work around my school schedule, I just hoped that my practicum was as well.
Enter the next hurdle in my career as a student. In order to be in my final practicum, I would need to commit to Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm. As understanding as the library was, they weren’t willing to be that flexible with my schedule. Three years down the road, and I was faced with the same decision once again: get a job, or go to school. This time, though, I wanted both.
In the end, it was more important for me to be working, than it was to complete my last practicum. I dropped the practicum and registered for COMM 150 - ready to wipe that ridiculous F off my transcripts - so that I could keep my three-course requirement for a full-time loan. Now it’s November, and the semester is just about over.
I’ve come a long way since my first semester at Red Deer College. I’ve learned not to trust anything unless I’ve heard it from at least three different “professionals”, I’ve learned that I have a fierce love for children, and that part-time schooling is definitely the way to go. Most of all, I’ve found my once-lost love for education. Will my built-up loans be worth it in the end? I don’t know. Right now, I’m loving it, and that’s all that matters.
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