Season 2, Episode 7: Unsteady

My first semester is almost over. (I have two weeks left, finals-pls snd hlp)

This isn’t really a bad thing, but admittedly, I’m a bit dismayed by it, and I’m not quite sure why. So this will probably just be a general recap of how this semester went for me- probably with some great pics so… Prepare yourselves.

School

Well, round one of college seems to be telling me that I’m enjoying the state of Maryland. I didn’t  completely overload my schedule class-wise, in fact, I had five-technically seven-classes, and I really didn’t ever feel like I didn’t have the time to do any necessary work (it was more of a question of motivation, to be honest—there’s only so many notes I can take before I get tired of doing it) for any of my classes. 

Out of all my classes I want to talk about three of them, because in taking these courses I somehow managed to learn a fair amount about myself as a person. If you don’t want to read this entire section (it is a bit long, I’ll admit that) feel free to either read the “what I learned” sections at the bottom of each class, or to just skip this section altogether if you couldn’t care less what classes have been like and would rather just hear about me as a person 😊.

Good news or bad news first? I was always one to go for the bad first, so the good could have you ending on a positive note, so here goes that. 

Government and Politics. (aka GVPT100) 

I was so thrilled to go to school and study political happenings that I think I forgot that there are so many other things to learn about governments too. Because of AP credits, I had tested out of the intro to American Government classes, and so this class, Scope and Methods for Political Science Research, came seemingly out of the blue for me. I had assumed that it would be a relatively rudimentary government class, especially since it was literally listed as GVPT100 (in movies you hear “English 101” or “Biology 101”, this was a step down even from that— it really couldn’t be that hard, right?)

To make a very long (16 weeks, in fact) story very short— I was wrong. 

This class has challenged me in ways I didn’t know existed. I’ve been asked to learn and master a data analysis software, and truly understand the commands that I’m asking it to fulfill, while at the same time, trying to understand the concepts of data analytics— not particularly things that I was interested in when I said I wanted to study government. 

To be very honest with you, this class was seemingly impossible to me the entire semester, and I’m both glad to be done with it, and a bit apprehensive to enter my gov class next semester. It’s a bit weird to feel this apprehensive about a class that I should be excited about. 

To wrap things up on GVPT100,

Things I Learned:

-Dear God, don’t take a 9am if it’s a class you don’t like (not that I would’ve known that in July when I planned my schedule originally)

-This isn’t what the rest of my classes will look like

-Study groups are actually the best thing

-If you tell yourself you can’t do something—you actually can’t

Math (aka MATH111)

This class took me by surprise in a number of ways. First, allow me to preface this blurb with the fact that I tested into Calculus (HAHA NOPE) and so, naturally, I placed myself into the lowest possible math class required for my Criminology Major- Introduction to Probability.

It was the only class that actually started teaching material on the very first day, and so when we started talking about combinations and permutations, I immediately had flashbacks to my sophomore year of math class, where we determined how much wainscoting my Math teacher needed to buy for his house remodeling, and cringed a bit, because I remembered not enjoying that class AT ALL. But as the semester has gone on, I’ve discovered that I don’t actually mind this class, and even more shockingly, I don’t actually hate math that much. 

I had this notion in my head that because I was always on the more artistic/creative side, I didn’t really enjoy math or science, and I had vehemently defended the pursuit of the arts to high school teachers who told me that they “needed smart girls like me in STEM fields”. But the thing was, as much as they had paid me quite a nice compliment, it wouldn’t have made sense. You don’t just want “smart” people in STEM fields, or the Social Sciences, or the Arts. You don’t just want people who are the best at what they do, you want people who care the most about what they do, and are willing to put in the work to become the best, if they aren’t already. 

I wouldn’t have been a good fit for that, I can see that now. I have too much of a passion within me for music and law and justice to have ever wanted to sit down and calculate differential equations, and different amounts of force on objects. That’s not to degrade anyone who is pursuing, or is looking to pursue, a STEM major, that’s just to say that it’s not for me. 

Anyhow, in taking this class, I expected to feel a bit out of place because I hadn’t taken a formal math class in a year, but instead, I found myself feeling weirdly confident in the material (Thanks Mr. Bullion—I must’ve retained some of my math from your class sophomore year!), and honestly doing really well in the class—so well, in fact, that I had people asking to study with me before every exam because “it makes more sense when [I] explain it”. That was certainly not something I expected, but again, that didn’t make it bad. It was actually quite a relief to have this math class be such a confidence builder for me, because I don’t think I would’ve been able to readily appreciate the work we were doing otherwise, which brings me to my wrap up below.

Things I Learned:

-Apparently I retained some of my knowledge of math (the more you know 😊)

-I don’t actually hate math.

-If you tell yourself you can do something, you actually can.

-Explaining how something works to someone else is ridiculously useful in helping you understand the concept too.

Criminology and Criminal Justice (aka CCJS100)

This was—by far—my favorite class of the semester. When I had arrived at UMD for orientation, one of my student orientation advisors had been a Crim major, and when I asked him for class recommendations, he immediately responded with the suggestion that I take a class with my current professor, so I did, and I definitely do not regret that decision. 

When I entered my freshman year, I was determined to double major, seeing as UMD has the best Criminology program in the nation (one that I had dreamed of being in since I was 12), and so by the end of my midterms, I was a declared double major in Government & Politics and Criminology & Criminal Justice. I was completely in love with my Introduction to Criminal Justice class, perhaps a testament to the incredible professor I had, who is seemingly everything I want to be in life, or maybe it was just my obscene levels of excitement to be in this course, but I showed up every day feeling invigorated and ready to learn more about the material. 

Me Coming From Crim One Day 

The professor I had was incredible—smart, witty, experienced, and perfectly eloquent. She made coming to class a treat because of the animated way she would retell different situations that she had been in before, and how relatable she was as a person. I distinctly remember going in to introduce myself to her about a week into classes, just so she would have a general idea of who I was—given her two classes of 100+ CCJS100 students, I figured taking the initiative would probably be a smart choice on my part— and being in awe of everything she said to me. We got to talking, and I discovered that she had harbored similar plans as an undergrad student that I did: get a degree, go to law school, be a lawyer, etc. Obviously, she ended up teaching at UMD, but it was borderline surreal to hear someone else say that they had  the same plans. 

We discussed her class and she asked if I thought it was too hard or too boring.

I told her that I loved it, because when I took notes, all I had to do was jot down the things she said that weren’t from the textbook. 

She responded by telling my I was the student that teachers dreamt of having. 

I beamed.

So began my rapport with my favorite teacher, who jokingly called my out in a final review session by pointing at me and saying “You. You’re going to finish this test in 17 minutes. I worked it out the other day in my head.” (I had finished the previous two, 50/55 question exams in under ten minutes, and she had, both times, been shocked to see that I was done so quickly, but then asked if I had known the answers, to which I responded, “Yeah. I studied!” Bonus: ask me about her full reaction when I finished her first test in 7 minutes.) 

Regardless, this class pretty much solidified the notion that I was in the right place for me. I had been doubtful before, but after experiencing this class, and truly longing to learn more, I can definitively say that I think I’ve made the right choice. 

Things I Learned:

-Going in to meet with teachers actually is a useful thing for them to get to know you. 

-YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE SOME REALLY COOL TEACHERS LOWKEY GET TO KNOW THEM I PROMISE IT’S WORTH IT

-When you find the things you’re really passionate about, everything will kind of ‘click’ in your mind about what you’re doing. 

-I’M SO GRATEFUL THAT I LEARNED HOW TO TAKE NOTES WELL

Social Life [alt title: That Thing I Don’t Have] & Emotional Life [alt title: That Thing I Have Too Much Of]

I might not be the most decorated collegiate freshman (yet), but you can’t tell me I haven’t done my best to get involved. From Guard to Cru to Auditioning for different musical and comedy groups, this semester has truly been a whirlwind of activity for me. Guard has done wonders for me as a person in many ways, but the most striking aspect to me is how it’s pushed me to get outside my comfort zone. I had to learn to throw things over my head and be perfectly okay with it if they fell in front of me on the ground, instead of in my hands. 

That’s huge for me. 

I’m notoriously perfectionistic, I’ll sit down at a piano at 11 in the morning to learn a particularly tricky piece of accompaniment and before I know it, it’s 7 in the evening, my fingers are burning, my mother is tired of hearing whatever it is I’m playing, and my dinner is long since cold. I can’t handle the idea of making mistakes when I know I can perform a set of skills better—so I force myself to, again and again, until it’s perfect. 

Having to accept that on some days my performance isn’t going to perfect made me uncomfortable, but I suppose that’s part of what growing up is. You’re supposed to be able to accept the changes, and adapt, and push yourself beyond your comfort zone… There are a lot of things that are learned in adulthood, so to shorten this post now, I’m glad that guard has helped me understand some of it.

Guard forces me to accept the possibility of catastrophe, and that terrifies me, but maybe the fear is what exhilarates me (adrenaline?), because clearly I keep going back. I auditioned for drum major this month (about a week ago now)—another panic-inducing moment for me. I thought I was prepared, and maybe I was, but I was downright terrified when I got up there to conduct the band, so maybe that’s why I made a mistake. 

I was devastated, to be honest. I remember going back to my dorm room and telling Kate that it was time for a pizza, the eggnog I had gotten over the weekend, and the “Treat Yo’self” episode of Parks and Rec because I was afraid if I didn’t channel my feelings into something I would just go back and cry. The thing was, I wasn’t nervous to go up and introduce myself, or to march, or to call out commands, no. None of that made me break a sweat, but conducting... that was a whole different matter. 

The way the auditions worked was that you get two chances to conduct—once to get used to conducting the band/have them get used to you, and the second to truly show the directors what you were capable. I had a miniature freakout about three measures into my first time, and thought I was under tempo, so I sped up and realized very quickly that I hadn’t been, but that the band was now taking our Pregame Fanfare at some ridiculous racehorse pace. Luckily, my second time conducting went much better, but I couldn’t help but feel disappointed in myself for screwing that up. 

I distinctly remember not wanting to be at the next two days of guard rehearsal and performance because I didn’t think I’d be able to look any of them in the eye and pretend that I was just regular “confident” me. I even debated whether or not I should go to the Band Banquet, because I was worried that they would all be sitting at a table judging me for making a fool out of the guard section.

But I faced my nerves head-on, which I knew I would have to do eventually, but I didn’t particularly enjoy. I told myself that no matter what had happened, I had to do my best at everything else coming my way. I had no reason to not try just because one element of my life had flown off the handle in my opinion (mind you, it really hadn’t, I was just overreacting emotionally because I was disappointed in myself). 

Life is going to be rough sometimes, and basically, I need to get over it. 

I’m sure that would sound really insensitive if I were saying it to someone else, especially since I’ve never been one to tell people to “suck it up” emotionally, because I don’t think that really helps anyone. The thing is, I’ve spent way too long beating myself over things that don’t matter. 

Would nailing the audition have been awesome? Absolutely. 

Was my existence hinged on its perfection? No. 

That’s the part I needed to get over. I have a tendency to mentally over-exaggerate the consequences of my mistakes, which generally has them all resulting with my world going up in flames, which in turn hasn’t happened yet. I need to be able to accept that I can’t always be perfect, to get over it, and to get on with my life. It’s not something I’ve really dedicated a lot of time to in the past, but I think it’s something that I need to know that I’ve gotten to this point in my life. Every mistake of mine can’t result in an awful week for me. It just can’t. Plain and simple. So I’m working on that. 

I’ve been reading a lot of poetry lately, to try and find the words that are strung together in just the right way to make my heart twinge in a way that lets me know I’ve been affected. It seems to me that poetry (and by extension music) have been some of the only things that have brought me clarity in the last two weeks or so, and I really appreciate that so many people are willing to be vulnerable enough to put their thoughts on paper for people like me to discover. I’ve found a few poems that I’m a bit partial to, so if you’re feeling up to some casual poetry time, check out these guys:

Do not go gentle into that good night- Dylan Thomas

nobody but you- Charles Bukowski

Invictus- William Ernest Henley

The Layers- Stanley Kunitz

The Rainy Day- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In a slight shift of topic, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, and on my social media once or twice, I was initially hesitant about loving this school, and my choice of major. I had given up an incredible chance to go to California and study music with a scholarship, only to come to Maryland and study…Crime…with very little offered financial aid. I remember crying for a week thinking that in choosing Maryland, I had turned my back on what God had wanted me to do, because I wouldn’t be attending a private Christian school like I could have in California. I called my mentor and cried on the phone to her for two hours, I talked to some of my closest friends, my parents, but ultimately, everyone left the choice to me (something that I will be infinitely grateful for: my parents’ gracious demeanor in telling me that I could choose what I wanted to pursue, rather than be forced into a vein of study by them) and after the initial euphoria had passed following by selection of Maryland, the fear came back full force. I had looked into transferring schools before I even started classes, goodness, I had essays already written for the applications. 

But then I got to Maryland, and started classes, and as much as I could recognize that some aspects of Maryland weren’t ideal, in my opinion, I really had no reason to not attempt to thrive. I wrote once about surviving versus living, and at the end of month one, I realized that was where I was at. There was a crossroads in front of me, I could either push myself, and throw myself into communities until I found my place, and felt like I belonged, or I could give up on that, and putter along quietly through my first year, and go somewhere else in the Fall of 2017. 

Luckily, one of my irritatingly dominant character traits, insufferable stubbornness, paid off. I hate having to admit that I’m wrong, and transferring would mean just that, admitting that I had made the wrong choice and then having to start again, which just won’t do. So I decided to stick it out, and I really haven’t regretted it. 

But I’ve been feeling really alone.

First, in a “do I actually belong here?” way, with the worship team. I threw myself into it, which I touched on a bit in the previous post, only to feel disheartened at the end of every Sunday night rehearsal. A couple of years ago at camp, I lost my voice during what I had assumed would be the most spiritually relevant week of program for me, meaning that I wasn’t able to worship through singing, at least not without potentially damaging my voice. I remember feeling like God was trying to tell me something by taking away something I normally found to be important when I was trying to dive deeper in my relationship with Him. I also didn’t really expect Him to do that again (then again, who am I to determine the effectiveness of His plans?). I found myself ill a lot during the second half of the semester. I had an awful cough that would keep me up at night, fevers, migraines, stomachaches that all seemed to have no real cause. But I would doggedly fulfill my duty at the worship team rehearsals. I showed up when I couldn’t sing and that’s what they had needed from me, I was there, doing everything I could to be helpful when I seemingly wasn’t needed anywhere. 

That’s what got to me, really. I have this awful fear of uselessness. I hate being in a room where there’s nothing useful for me to do. It makes me feel incompetent. It makes me feel stupid. It makes me feel utterly worthless. I hate it. Unfortunately, that’s the place that I found myself in during the majority of the second semester. The worship team had another girl who played piano, they didn't need me. The team had plenty of people who could sing, they didn't need me. They had guitarists, and a violinist, and a drummer, they didn’t need me. And it’s not like I had brought any of the 20 instruments that I play out to UMD, so to me, I was pretty useless. 

So why was I there at all? I found myself wondering this a lot, particularly when we would end and I would feel like I had contributed literally nothing to our rehearsals. That was hard for me, because I’m also someone who enjoys knowing that they’ve contributed to finished products. Week after week I would find myself deliberately staying after everyone else (seemingly absentmindedly playing worship music on the piano) only to break down in tears right after the last person would leave. 

It was an awful thing to do to myself, because in reality, I should’ve just… Talked to someone. Anyone, really. But I was afraid to reach out to the leader of the team because he’s a student, and I didn’t want to stress him out or make him feel bad, but I also didn’t want to any of my friends form home for the same reasons. I put myself between a rock and a hard place. I gave myself no other alternative than feeling miserable about it, and desperately trying to get a grasp of my emotional spectrum. 

Obviously, that didn’t work, which made me feel even more discouraged. So I tried to make myself helpful, and to be useful in any way possible (the amount of times that I offered to stay late after our Thursday night meetings is unreal) because I couldn’t handle the feeling of being useless. My best guess says that the fear is more deeply rooted in rejection, or at least the idea that if I was useless, I wouldn’t be necessary or wanted by the team, and they would just get rid of me on the spot—something I would not be emotionally prepared to handle. 

But the semester ended on a weird note for the team. I was able to play piano for them (finally) and seemingly everything went wrong on my end. The piano was near silent, the singers were in a different key than me (presumably because I started on the wrong chord), and overall, it was an atypical performance from us. But next semester is only a few short weeks away, so I suppose we’ll see where this road leads me when I get there.

But I’ve also felt alone in a “lacking community” sort of way. Because of some unfortunate scheduling decisions (which I didn’t realize until the semester was in full swing) I found it incredibly difficult to make it to the campus community group meetings, basically the small groups of Cru. I did my best, but often times, I was literally too physically exhausted from a full day of classes+marching band to get enough work done ahead of the meeting and be able to go. 

Even when I did make it there, I found myself lacking something still—which I presumed was depth in the bible study, initially. But the more frequently I became able to attend, the more I realized that it wasn’t that, because God could take a piece of fruit and teach me a lesson through that, if I was open enough to it, so the intensity of a bible study shouldn’t be dictating my spiritual walk. I ended up hitting on what I think it is— I’ve had such an incredible opportunity to grow up at my church and at my camp, two places where I’ve fostered a sense of community and fellowship among small groups of young men and women, and when I came all the way out here to Maryland, I lost that. I had willingly sacrificed the comforts of home in more ways than I had imagined, that being one of them. 

Ultimately (after the last bible study I was able to attend for the semester) I was able to gather up enough courage to ask one of the bible study leaders about it, and she was honestly so refreshing to hear from, because she said some things that I don’t think I knew I needed to hear. 

It wasn’t stupid of me to be wanting more from a bible study than what we had at the moment. It was something that spoke to where I was in my spiritual walk more than anything else that I wanted to be pushed deeper. It was okay for me to be like this, to feel like I was lacking something, because for me, in that moment, I really was (and still really am). I’m currently still in the middle of a huge adjustment, the magnitude of which I’ve only begun to comprehend. 

When middle school me decided that she wanted to go to college out of state, she didn't realize that she would be leaving more than just her family in Illinois. When High School me committed to UMD, I wasn’t aware of the emotional toll that leaving my spiritual comfort zone would take on me. If you look at early blog posts from this “season”, as I’ve divided them, you’ll see that I predicted missing my friends and my hometown, and that I anticipated that keeping my faith nurtured and flourishing would be difficult, but I never actually thought that leaving a community would have such a huge impact on my spiritual and emotional wellbeing. 

So I’m wondering if this was a “hey, let’s bring your spirits down to show you how high I can really bring them if you trust me” moment from God. I’m hoping so, but regardless, I’m determined to keep searching for my value in His Word, not in the circumstances around me, so I guess that means I’m putting my trust in God alone at this point, because enough things have changed over the last four months to make me a different person than who I was just earlier this year. 

What’s Next?

Funny you should ask this, because I’m wondering the same thing. 

Obviously, as I’m wrapping up this semester, I’ll be back again for next semester in late January, which should be exciting (and probably stressful, but I’m really trying to cross that bridge when I get to it). I’ve got some thrilling (heavy sarcasm implied) classes coming up—mainly more Gen-Eds to get out of the way, but still, each class I take puts me one step closer to law school, and entering the legal world, so that’s thrilling. 

I was officially accepted into the University Student Judiciary, so that starts next semester and I’M ABOUT AS PSYCHED AS A PERSON CAN GET. I’m also planning on rushing in the Spring, so maybe I’ll fall in love with one of the sororities on campus, who knows? 

I go home again in about a week, and I haven't packed (should probably get on that). I’m excited to have a full, true, month off, but I also am trying my best not to romanticize my return the way I did last time, which is kind of a weird mindset to put myself in, to be honest with you. One minute, I’ll be thinking “wow, it’s going to be so great to hang out with so-and-so” and the next, I’ll be correcting myself and thinking “I’m sure it’ll be nice, but don’t expect much”, which really isn’t a comforting thought either. We’ll see. I’m excited to go to Christmas and ask my extended family to put on UMD’s bowl game and point out all of my best friends having the time of their life out on the field in Detroit. It’ll be incredible (I hope). 

I’d also like to point out that I’m aware that I’ve been writing longer posts, more frequently than I used to. Maybe it's the starving artist in me that refuses to die, but something in me is telling me that I need to keep writing, and between this, my college papers, and writing for the Odyssey, I’ve got my plate full of writing opportunities, but this seems to be the one that I put the most of myself into. When I write an essay for class, it usually has to be unbiased and objective; when I write for the Odyssey, I rarely write about my own experiences, and so this blog has been the place I can come to be open and honest and vulnerable. 

That’s terrifying for anyone, but particularly for me, when I’m out here, and you, dear readers are all out there.

I had a conversation with a friend of mine a few weeks ago during which I said that I realized what the problem with my blogging style was. He proceeded to inquire as to what it was, and I responded by telling him that it’s not conversational enough—at least not as conversational as it’s meant to be. When I said that, I meant it in the most simple way. 

When I write these things, I’m fulfilling my half of a conversation with whoever reads these. But in a way, I’m expecting a response. Not to say that I selfishly want everyone who reads these to take the time to write a thoughtful, three paragraph essay of a response, but just to say that each one of these posts is me starting a conversation, and ultimately waiting for the other person to jump in with me. 

I’ve deliberately been more introspective lately, in order to depict the most authentic version of me possible for you, and in doing so, in going deeper into myself, I’ve been learning more about myself, and I want to share that with people. I don’t just write because I have nothing to do— God knows I have homework to do, rehearsals to go to, and meetings to attend. 

I guess what I’m saying is that I’d like to break the rule that I’ve always assumed about blogs in the way of Fight Club: “the first rule of blogging is that you don’t talk about having read a blog post”. 

I want the opposite. I want what I write to start a conversation, I want you to ask me tough questions about how I’m doing, and what I’m doing in college, because I’ve clearly got a lot to say. 

Ask me about what my roommate experience has been like, about whether or not I think I would’ve done better at a smaller school, or if I really thought I had made a mistake in coming here.

In writing the way I have lately, I’ve opened myself up for those questions, and I’m both ready and willing to take them on. 

So go on. 

Hit me with your best shot. 

Fire away.

Signing Off, 

Amanda

P.S. Here are some fun pictures, so you know that this entire semester hasn't been awful.