You Won't See Me

Well, I made it through another week, much like the previous one in that we had a lot of homework. I still have the word paper, but it's actually pretty close to being done. I just have to somehow include the Syntopicon (a two-volume set of essays about concepts like Love, Self, and so on. Regret was not in there, so I copied the essay for Experience, but I don't know how to fit it into my paper), poetry criticism, and Freud, which Mrs. L. keeps insisting is important, though I'm not sure how to work it in.

On Saturday, I'm going to visit Marquette. I'm going to try to keep an open mind--maybe I'll end up loving the place--but even though I'm going to visit it, I kind of doubt that I'll actually go there. Most of my decisions about my future change quickly, but right now I'm pretty sure that I want to major in film studies, a program that Marquette doesn't have. The history of film and criticism of film sounds fascinating to me. Plus, I have a kind of promise I have to live up to. Last year at QB Nationals in New Orleans, during one of our late-night talks in Bandy and Melanie's room, I said that I wanted to be a film critic. It was during a discussion of our dream jobs, regardless of money and schooling, and not especially meant to be a serious ambition, but Laura wrote in my yearbook that I should go for it: "If anyone can do it, you can," she wrote. Which was pretty nice, and kind of inspiring. I use the term "promise" loosely here; it's not like I'm going to pursue a career in film criticism at all costs, but I realize that it really is something I'd like to do, more than any of my previous half-hearted goals of being an English teacher or something. And all those tests we have to take that say what career you should have always place me in Communications, which I think film studies falls under.

We had a meeting at lunch yesterday to decide which Nationals we want to go to this year. I don't think anyone is particularly excited about going at all. School will be over, people have SATs and ACTs those weekends, and no one really cares that much. Last year, Nationals was like a fun class trip, plus it was a closing note on the seniors' high school career, not just in quiz bowl, but as a group of friends. This year, with only one senior--and Will told me today that he's probably not going, because of the money thing--he's saving up for college, obviously, plus there's Mr. McCoy's Canada trip--it will have a lot less finality, nostalgia, etc. And we're not going to New Orleans, but Chicago. Yay... I'm usually the one who tries to motivate people, but I've completely lost all my desire to be in quiz bowl at all. I'll have to think seriously about whether I really want to do it next year. All right, so I probably will end up doing it, but I'm kind of dreading--rather than eagerly anticipating, as I used to--all the practices and meetings and Saturday tournaments it all entails. Hopefully camp, this summer, will get me motivated.

Camp, by the way, is an entirely different situation. Answering actual questions isn't the thing I like most about quiz bowl, but obviously it's a big part of it; that's usually muddied up by Ms. Greene and school and winter and so on. At camp, the answering questions is a big and fun part of it, but there's also hanging out with people and having a lot of fun, without all the pressure. That's probably what I hated most about this past year: as a starter on the A team, I'm constantly blamed for stuff I didn't know or didn't get fast enough, whereas on the B team, no one really cared. Including the players (last year, Will, Bandy, Mike, Maia, Arpeet, and I). I'm really looking forward to going to camp this year, especially to see my friends from last year. Hopefully they're all coming back.