As I lay awake in bed a few nights ago thinking about how different I've felt this year as compared to last, my roommate muttered in his sleep, "It's true." Propelled by this harbinger of coincidence, I knew I was on to something momentous.
Last year I felt altogether overwhelmed, unsure of how to deal with the hectic trimester schedule, dealing with a roommate, the blitzkrieg of opportunities available, the uber-students who participated in all of them, all the 'shmobs I felt left out of, and a few draconian classes in which I was apparently tested on how well I could read the profs' minds (I didn't flunk any, but ... two C+'s in the same term is a tad frustrating).
But this year things aren't nearly as overwhelming, and last term I felt, for the first time, like a true sophomore. Part of it is time, adjustment, picking a major...but there's much more to it for me. Perhaps it was my realization that about half of life is b.s. and maybe my pneumonia and subsequent withdrawal from the College in the fall had something to do with it.
Part of the problem with low self-confidence is the overestimation of others. It's so hard coming to a school where extracurricular over-extension is glorified, when you're a student who ... isn't nearly that good at organizing time and who didn't really become active until senior year of high school. But I came to see that many of these people were trading much of their sleep time for their activities, and realized I could never be quite that active.
Also in the "overestimation of others" category, it dawned on me that 50 percent of what people say (if not more) is also b.s. Among so many impressive people, sometimes it seemed like I wasn't so creative anymore, or that they had one up on me since they were both creative AND well-organized, or that people knew how to milk assigned readings for all they were worth in much less time than I could. After hearing one-too-many cliches thoughtlessly spouted out by certain peers, however, I came to see that there was no edge to what they were saying, and that often they didn't care at all about the class beyond just finishing the work. I'm glad I enjoy a lot of readings others find hopelessly dry, and now I know that teachers don't expect unbridled creativity at every turn.
The pneumonia thing put things in perspective for me, too. Somehow, after all that, few things seemed as serious as before. Even that dire situation was overcome, and now I'm back and more optimistic about future problems.
I don't freak out about assignments and classes anymore. When I procrastinate, it's just a matter of being up really late one or two nights studying. I've also become better at reading profs to figure out what they expect; sure, I still can't quite take on some of the masters of arbitrariness in the faculty, but I'm glad I survived them in the past and appreciate reasonable teachers so much the more because of the unreasonable ones.
I've had my first relationship here, certainly a rite-of-passage for me. Indubitably, that was one of my main sources of uplift last term, as I confronted a milder Dartmouth winter than last year (both meteorologically, mentally, and emotionally).
I've (yes, I'm starting yet another sentence with "I," in blatant violation of the mandates of several English teachers: watch me not care) got a good bunch of friends I hang out with fairly often, though it's not a unit by any means; some of them hate each other, but I won't choose between them on account of it, nor do they expect me to. I don't care anymore that I wasn't one of the 'shmobs of 'shmen Fall, 'cause I've done my best to develop good friendships around here.
And actually, I have come a little closer to the eternally-busy student; many activities and clubs are on my calendar, I have a planner, and I know it's ok (even expected) that I'll cut corners so I can get everything done. My limits, however, are never forgotten in my business (there, I didn't start the sentence with "I"!!).
Last but not least, I've caught myself on many occasions passing advice on to freshmen. So I'm older and (dare I say it ... wiser) seem to know what I'm doing around here, and know how to begin sentences. This knowledge hereby passes from me to whoever would humor me in taking it (did it again).
