Uh Oh! You Tried To Do Something Hard and It Didn’t Work and Now You Have to Kill Yourself.
Just Relax and Read the Article if You’re So Worried
By: Jaime Church
I took 59 classes from my out-of-state D1 university over the course of 4 years but I do not have a diploma because I don’t know how to change variables in double and triple integrals. Bummer! Just today my academic advisor told me to “just hang in there,” and thank God she did, because I was beginning to lose hope. What did you study? Lots of people ask me this. And by “lots of people” I mean my parents' friends. I thought I was studying cognitive science and design, but I guess I’m studying the spectral theorem for normal operators. It’s sort of (financially) late in the game to be realizing this. It’s just me and my debt against the world, it would seem.
My academic advisor, Chelsea, (don’t worry I’m using a fake name,) is what I imagine someone would look and sound like if they were a half-used vanilla scented hand sanitizer you found in your least favorite roommate’s toiletries. Useless and annoyingly fragrant. I’m taking some creative liberties here to assume she would be annoyingly fragrant. Our communication only exists through emails and zoom calls, but even that is way too much Chelsea time. It’d be one thing if she was answering my questions. Or even trying to. But her ability to redirect or flat-out avoid questions–that have real stakes– is something that Pete Hegseth could and should take notes on. But neither of them would ever take notes on anything. They just say random stuff to my bare face and I take it because what the hell else am I supposed to do? I’m a broke, 22 year old white girl who tried something and it didn’t work. I wonder if anything bothers Chelsea. I think I could get on the horn and say “Chelsea! Help! My house is burning down and all my family is dying and I think I’m going blind in my left eye!” and Chelsea would genuinely look at me with so much vacancy in her brain that she would be hemorrhaging loads of money if it was a hotel, and she would tell me “hmm. Yeah that sounds tricky. Sorry to hear that. My recommendation is to reach out to your major advisory staff and see what your options are there.” BITCH YOU ARE MY MAJOR ADVISORY STAFF.
I’m sorry Chelsea. While you are a terrible academic advisor, I understand that you did not set this system up. You too just need to pay your bills, and I’m sure the department isn’t paying you a dime more than they need to to handle outraged students like me. But you do suck at your job. It would seem that you too tried something new and it didn’t work. I would propose that we simply attend each other’s funerals, but that wouldn’t really work logistically. Plus, I don’t plan on dying right away, because you told me to hang in there, remember? You didn’t tell me for how long, or really where I’m hanging, or what will happen once I let go. But patience is a virtue, I suppose. God. I feel bad for all those people out there who haven’t gotten the opportunity to practice it the way I have. They’re probably running around, chasing their own tail because they haven’t learned the art of patience the way I have. It wasn’t too hard to learn. You just have to sink yourself in quite a bit of debt and give up hope on a degree you wanted more than just about anything in the world. Oh don’t be so dramatic. You know what? You’re right. I am going to stop this moping and negative-self talk. I can’t give in to the adversary quite yet! The straight and narrow is the place for me, and the straight and narrow is where I will be. That rhymed unintentionally. Anyway I have something for you that’s sure to make you smile! Because that is what writing and human understanding is about. Positivity! So without further ado, here is my moms recipe for peppermint brownies that are guaranteed to add at least one merry moment to your holiday season this year.
INGREDIENTS
BROWNIE PART:
4 ½ oz. unsweetened chocolate
⅔ cup shortening
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
1 t. vanilla
1 ¼ cup flour
1 t. baking powder
1 t. salt
FROSTING
2 cups powdered sugar
3 T. canned milk
5 T. butter
¼ t. peppermint extract
2 drops red food coloring
Her recipe card didn’t give directions, only ingredients, so you’re on your own for the steps and baking temperatures and all that jazz. Sorry. I took you as far as I could. I’ve decided to stop worrying about the big picture and just start focusing on the details. After all, that's where everyone says the devil is. So my education and debt and goals as a woman in STEM aren’t really too big of a deal. You’ve got time! You’re still young. Yes, thank you for that. I’m sure that in no time at all, I’ll get that degree and pay off all that debt and then me and Chelsea will go out for coffee and laugh because we were worried for nothing! And she will be a marine biologist for Scripps institute researching Octopi, and I will be a writer for the New Yorker magazine making fun of Seattle and Silicon valley tech bros, and we won’t even ask if refills are free because if they aren’t it doesn’t matter because our bank accounts are absolutely stuffed.
I know I don’t have to kill myself. That is dark and I am not trying to make light of death let alone life. But gosh, the system sure does. But it’s nothing a little peppermint brownie can’t solve I’m sure. That’s why I gave you the recipe. If you end up making them, let me know how they turn out. I’d make them but I actually suck at baking and cooking and I don’t derive enjoyment from the process really. (Darn! How am I going to find a husband now?) Babe, if you’re out there, I won’t be able to cook you shit, but I’ll read to you manifestos every night about life and love, and I will sew you novelty quilts, and I’ll even play you a tune on the piano. And we can hang your degree above the fireplace, (without mine, because as we’ve established, I unfortunately never earned one,) but it's ok because instead of a degree we can just put a picture of me smiling. Looks are worth more than brains. And I will be happy and talented and good at what I do and we will send out adorable Christmas cards at Christmastime and when people get them they will think, gosh, this girl must have a bachelor's degree from somewhere prestigious! And Chelsea will say see? I told you to hang in there. And I will say, Chelsea, you hung me.