The night before our Arts One final exam, my seminar professor gave us these words of wisdom:

Dear all…. Rest up, relax (yoga, stretching, etc.) and try to remain calm on this Crawfish exam eve. This is a rite of passage for you soon to be Arts One alumni and I know you will all do well. Focus on the exam now and I will have news about essays very shortly.

I remember sometime around the ending of my grade 7 year–which had been a very good year for me–I had meditated and felt overwhelming sentimentality for the passing of an era. Arts One was substantially better than my grade 7 year. (That’s so strange. Being 12 years old doesn’t feel very far away, but suddenly being 12 and being 18 seem so far apart, and it occurs to me that 12 year old Jia and 18 year old Jia are two entirely different people.) Despite the fact that being 18 was much better than being 12, it didn’t quite hit me that I was an Arts One alumni, and I don’t think it has, really.

I think that Arts One has affected me more than it did for a lot of the people who I shared the program with, and I’m not even sure why that is, to be honest. I think we all knew that the program was wonderful, and I think at least on some level, we’re going to miss it (some of us more than others). It was easily the highlight of my first year, and I’m so grateful for what its given me. Other than the academic tools its equipped me with, I’m so grateful for the seminar I was in, to be surrounded by intelligent, worldly, curious, but still very normal students who were given to procrastinating and not always putting in all their effort, normal students who–most importantly–always loved to laugh.

As I write that, I think that’s what I might miss most from ARTS 001B LB2. I intend on having a similar academic experience through the Honours English program, but I will never again be in the same classroom as all 20 of the laughter-loving and wisdom-loving friends I made. Regardless, the things I learned from them and the time I spent with them will always be precious.

To any incoming Arts One students–make the most out of your seminar. The group I was in was so diverse, with a variety of interests (academic and extracurricular) and values and habits, but the group would not have been the same if any one of them had been missing. I could not have hand-picked a better group to go through my first year of university with. We were probably the closest seminar in the entire program, but it’s a scenario easily enough recreated if you put in the effort.

To my dear Crawfamily–thank you for your wonderful thoughts, your company, and your shared laughter. It’s been absolutely one-of-a-kind.

Not even a week ago, I had said that winter and spring were fighting for dominance, and I gave my prediction that spring would emerge victorious. I, apparently, should not speak so soon. On the day of the week that I spend the most time walking, I woke up to the sound of relentless pitter-pattering of rain outside my window. Winter is not going down without a fight, although one could argue that spring rains are a thing, especially in Rain-couver.

The east window of the Douglas College David Lam college, looking out onto Lafarge Lake

After my annual eye exam (it went well! My right eye has “gotten better”, and I got ~stylish~ new glasses), I made my way to Douglas College for my weekly Wednesday study sessions. As my boyfriend is a Douglas student, and I’m much closer to both Douglas campuses than I am to UBC, I like spending a few hours of my day here to get a large bulk of my studying done.

My “study sprawl” today, featuring my last Arts One text and the makings of my last Arts One essay

 Actually, not only am I much closer to both Douglas College campuses, I’m also much closer to Simon Fraser University. Despite this, I chose not only to study at the University of British Columbia but to spend three hours a day commuting there so I could attend. One of my new friends remarked to me recently that I get very defensive about my commuting time, and I do. It’s probably from some deep-seated desire to be closer to campus, but logically, I really don’t mind commuting. For my first year at UBC, commuting has not only been an okay option, it was the much better option.

If any incoming first years or anyone else considering rez is reading this… take my enthusiasm for commuting with a grain of salt (obviously). There are so many good things to be said about rez, but commuting–even such long distances–is really not as bad as it might seem (or even as it might feel for you during the first few days).

The most obvious reason I’d recommend you commute is it saves you a heck of a lot of money. Having parents pay for your groceries is a wonderful thing.

For me, spending as much time as I do on transit every day has been quite productive for my schooling. Earlier in the year, I thought I couldn’t sleep on transit (ha!), so I got so much of my reading done. What with Arts One, I had a lot of reading to do in a short amount of time, and if I wasn’t on the bus during the day, my chances of getting reading done were not that high. As an avid reader (or someone who is trying very hard to be an avid reader again), the train and bus are the best places to be.

Of course, there is also sleeping on transit! I’m not brave enough to do this except when I’m riding the train or bus to the end of the route, and some of my friends have fallen asleep so deeply that the bus driver has had to wake them up, but it can be done. On particularly busy hours on particularly busy routes, getting a seat may be a problem, and when you’re on buses like the 84 (VCC-Clark to UBC)–that are almost always occupied by regular commuting students–you’re going to need to be what I call a “seat vulture”, because everyone else around you is probably going to be one, too.

Although that isn’t fair to say. There have been many polite transit-takers who have given up seats for people. (I’m ashamed to say I’m not one of them.)

On days like today, when the rain was and still is relentless, sometimes I wish I had a chauffeur or a license or a car or a parking pass, but I don’t regret not shelling out the cash to live on residence. I’m happy I stayed home, close to my parents, my dog, and my boyfriend, and I’m also happy I make the effort three days a week to go to one of the top universities in the world.

Okay, so, the midterm did not go well, but right after it, I did some math homework. That went well. (The following days of math homework did not go well, but we don’t have to focus on that part.) Also, we had our first lecture since the midterm today, and prof assured us that the midterm was meant to be, in fact, even harder than the final.

I’ve never had to work my ass off for school, which sounds like bragging (and it is, I guess), but that’s how it was. I am one of Those Kids for whom The System is designed for. So, I don’t know what it’s like to have to work hard in a course and then see reward. There came a point in my last year of high school math that I realized I was 4% from an A, the end was nigh, and it didn’t look like I was about to get high 90s marks on any of my coming assessments, especially for the final. I tried to work hard anyway. I finished the course with an 80%… which is nothing to stick your nose up at, considering it was Pre-Calculus 12, but it’s my only B in 3 years of high school. It hurts my ego! This is my line: “I’m a straight-A student… mostly.” Blech. Oh well. Moving on.

It’s looking like I’m going to have to work even harder for Math 180 than I did for Pre-Calculus 12. I don’t know if it’s going to work, since the only time I’ve ever tried was a non-success, but I’m damn well going to try. I ought to, considering I still want to minor in mathematics. I’d want to minor in it even if I failed. Mathematics is my abusive boyfriend, and I am a weak-willed, infatuated little girl, enticed by the magic of mathematics. I annoyed my two friends in Pre-Calculus 12 because every time our teacher explained something, and I understood it, I would say, “Math is magical!” But you know what? It is. I can’t get enough of it. Mathematics lets you play with it, lets you think you can manipulate it, but underneath it all, mathematics is always the boss. I know this relationship isn’t getting anywhere, but I’m addicted.

Can anybody count the adverbs for me? I’d ask you to count the colons and semi-colons, too, but I’m almost sure there aren’t any. At the first Arts One tutorial that I presented my essay in, I became aware of how many times I ended words with “-ly”. I found it pleasantly ironic that we hadn’t covered adverbs in my French lecture that day, which had been the class just before… naturally, we were going to spend half an hour on it in Arts One tutorial (albeit in English, but whatever.) If anything, I’m starting to realize just how reluctant I am. Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps. Almost. Is it symbolic? Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps. Almost. I’ll explore it some other time.

I cannot quit adverbs cold turkey! I’m trying, Crawford, I am. My understanding of addiction is limited, but I think there is this point in addiction where your body becomes reliant on the drug. You can’t take it because it’s bad for you (even if everything does look super cool and psychedelic), but you can’t not take it because your body can’t work without it anymore. That’s my writing and adverbs. I’m really trying. That’s adjustment number two. So far:

1. I need to work hard. 🙁
2. I’m quitting adverbs… cold turkey. Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps. Almost. (Also colons and semi-colons. Goodbye, beloved colons… I loved you so. I loved the way you turned my sentences into minivans, packing potentially endless clauses together into one monster of a sentence.) I know blog writing is different, and I don’t have to avoid them here, but I figure if I get into the habit in all my writing, I’ll be able to more easily avoid adverbscolonssemicolons in my essays.

The biggest adjustment so far, however, is not even academic. I moved to Vancouver when I was nine, almost ten. I went to the same school with a lot of the same people for seven years. Until I came to UBC, I did not realize how small town I was. I could trust that I would know someone in any class I joined, and if I wasn’t good friends with anyone, that meant I would do well in class because nobody would bother me. I was always able to Facebook message someone if I didn’t get the homework, though.

Then, all of a sudden, BAM just a number. It didn’t take long for my greatest fear to become that I would be friendless at the school of my dreams. I was rattling off to my boyfriend about how I was trying to make friends and how it was harder than I expected it to be, and he said, “Jia… it’s been two weeks.”

I’m not adjusted yet, but in the first week or two, I was definitely crying a little bit at night because I thought I was lonely. I don’t do that anymore. I’m adjusting. I’m trying to find this medium between the comfort of high school, home, my small town suburbia, and “the big leagues” of UBC. I didn’t want to go straight home today, because I only had one class, which is only 50 minutes long. I studied (sitting across from a friend–thank you, Arts One, for friends!) for half an hour before heading down to the SUB and getting some fries. As I walked back out, somebody was playing the piano, and it was a song I knew. I still had time before I had to go home, so I sat on a nearby bench for twenty minutes, and I listened.

The songs he played brought me back to sitting in my high school music room (home), listening to people play music. People who are now acquaintances, people who I can’t talk to anymore, people who I still love, all of them. The boy was also playing improv, so they weren’t the exact versions of the song that I knew, but they were still recognizable. I was listening to these familiar-yet-different songs, and I was listening to them at UBC. The comfort of home and the excitement of UBC merged together for me while sitting there, munching on my fries. I didn’t feel so lonely. I knew I was going to be fine. I was content. In fact, I am sure.

Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps. Almost.

I am content, no reluctant adverbs necessary.

It has been just over three weeks since school started, and already, my first midterm is coming up on Monday, I have handed in one essay and am puking out the second, handed in un brouillon de rédaction, and failed miserably at my first quiz.

I have dreamed about going to UBC for so long that I don’t even remember when I first came up with the idea or why I thought about it in the first place, but it was always something I included in my bucket lists. It was also something I just took for granted. I never seriously considered any other option. I was always a planner: just like I knew all the courses I was going to take in high school since grade 9 started, UBC was just always on the to do list. There’s still something so surreal about being at school every day. It still hits me sometimes that studying here is a dream.

My Arts One seminar prof told a room of 20 presumably high achieving students today that a low B on our first essays should be thought of as an A+. The tension in the room after he said that was tangible. He gave us a very small laugh and said that basically the honeymoon period is coming to a close.

I don’t know, though. I was sitting on the 84 today today, staring at the Student Recreation Centre and the Waffle Building (aka Buch Tower) in the distance, a few hours after I had gotten my miserable failure of a first math quiz back (thank goodness workshop quizzes are worth only 10% of 10% of the overall course mark, but unfortunately, I think the miserable failure of a first math quiz was a bad omen for the future), and I texted my boyfriend: I still don’t believe I get to go to school here.

School is hard. Arts One is a lot of work (even if it is work that I love doing). Math is hard. French is… tedious. But I love every moment of it. Even when I am struggling, even when I am bored, I am so happy.

I’d heard la vie en rose before, of course, but I really, really listened to it a week ago, and I discovered that it’s probably the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard! (I use it as my reward whenever I get a WeBWorK question right.)

I think I’m never going to stop seeing ma vie en rose, particularly not as long as I’m at UBC. No matter how difficult it gets, no matter how close to tears it drives me, I dreamed of this, and it’s lived up to that dream so far. I didn’t dream of a honeymoon, after all. I dreamed of the University of British Columbia, and every hurdle that comes with it.