Because I am just such an up-to-date reporter, I write about an event almost as soon as I return from it. Also to prove that I have, you know, t3h sk1lls gained from going to the writers’ corner. But more on that later.
Overall, it was actually pretty good. I enjoyed it. At first, I wasn’t going to give a blow-by-blow account — it’s the middle of the week, after a long day of class (with the extra added excitement of a “police incident” at the Bio building — either a bomb threat or a gun threat, depending on who you ask — I was in class at the nearby Hebb Theatre during the whole affair so it didn’t affect me in the least), and I have to get up at six-something tomorrow for volunteering — but you know how long-winded I am.
The beginning and ending were slightly unfortunate. There were five hundred so people, so I am told, all stuck in the lobby of the Chan Centre. For some reason, the words “Chan Centre” deluded me into thinking we’d go inside where we can sit. My fault for not reading the print properly, I suppose. It was with some (negative) surprise, then, when the speeches commenced in the lobby itself, fifteen minutes late. The poor presenters had to rush, and you could tell the Dean was pressed for time. “She’s talking even faster than you,” a friend commented in an undertone to me.
I like our Dean. She seems genuinely enthusiastic about the value of an Arts degree and appears committed to providing the best support possible. That was my first impression on IMAGINE Day, and it’s still hanging around. The first Wednesday of every month is apparently when we can go to the Meekison Arts Students’ Space in Buchanan D to talk to her about the Arts degree. I may check that out next month.
At some point I admit I drifted off to admire the height of the trees outside the Chan Centre. It seems appropriate to be looking at trees on a day when they tell you to grasp your opportunities and to reach. On reflection, it might not have been the smartest-sounding thing to say, “The trees are tall”, when Genevieve asked what I was looking at. Coupled with my earlier observation — “Why are you so tall?” — while Genevieve and Cory were talking about U.S. politics, I might have sounded air-headed. Actually, I think that may be justified. I was trying to keep up with the discussion but the crick in my neck distracted me. (That reminds me that I need to look up voting sequences. Keyword: “primaries”. Says the person who only last year started finding out about how states vote for Congress and presidential elections. Sigh.)
The panels were pretty interesting. I enjoyed the non-profit one thoroughly, and the writers’ corner was kind of interesting to hear about people’s different experiences. The non-profit one was of interest because they gave some advice on how to get started, and there wasn’t anything I hadn’t really heard of from the writers’ corner.
Of course, the non-profit couldn’t really advise me on how to find where my passions lie beyond going out and trying things — in the end, it’s up to me to discover and focus. And writing is one of those things which I, at least, can’t keep asking other people about. It’s something I would do no matter what anyone else said because it’s what I do for myself. On the other hand, I have a perpetual dilemma about whether it can be something I can do for anyone else. Is sitting at home writing really going to help people in the way I want? That’s not something anyone else can answer for me, though guidance is always useful.
The career expo is probably something that is more helpful for people in upper years, or for people who at least have some idea of what they want to do. My ideas are currently vague: I want to help people (one-to-one), and I want to write. I’m good at school. Those are the limits of my self-knowledge. This is also the nice thing about being in first-year, however: you get to explore different things and test out the waters. I’ve not yet chosen the path I want to take, so I can’t yet ask the more specific questions about actually delving deeper into a particular field. Getting a general idea of what it’s like is still, however, useful: at least I know I’m not put off (yet), so I can keep looking into them. Knowing that you don’t want to do something can be just as useful as knowing what you might want to do.
As for the mix-and-mingle, I haven’t really got the hang of them yet. Generally I am hungry and hunting for edibles, so can’t stop to talk much. Or I look out for people I know, who introduce me to others, and I introduce people I know to others too. I’m still so used to being close to the people I talk to that I feel sad when I meet all these people I know I’ll probably never really get to know.
Finally, barring the fact that the Chan Centre lobby is not the easiest place to put five hundred-so hungry people — I pity the waitresses — the food was very good.
