It’s Fall, which has always been my favorite time of the
year. The days are cool and crisp, and the nights get cold. The trees change
color and it rains a bunch. Oh, wait, that’s what Autumn was like when I lived
in New England.
Here in So Cal, we get about three days like that a year. And they might be in June. So
other than by looking at the calendar, we never really know what season we’re
in.
But this year I can tell you it’s Fall because I’m going
back to school. I am not going to be
clutching a Wonder Woman lunch box, or a book bag filled with number 2 pencils
and brand new erasers. But otherwise it
doesn’t feel like much else has changed.
My stomach is in knots. I admit it; I’m scared.
I’m not afraid of the work – I never was. I know I can handle
that. But, now, just like when I was 6 or 18 or 21 and starting first grade,
college and graduate school, I’m terrified of the intangibles. The things I can’t
control. Did I mention that I’m a control freak?
Like what if I don’t make any friends? What if people are mean to
me? What if I’m the oldest person in my class? What if, like in the nightmares
I started having last week, I get terminally lost?
If I’m thinking rationally, I know the answer to all these
questions. I may not make friends but I’ll
survive with a few acquaintances. No one
is going to be mean to me; no one will care that much. That’s the joy of not
being 7 anymore. Or 16. And yes, there
is the distinct possibility that I’ll be the oldest one in my class.
Big
freaking deal. I have a ton of life
experience to draw upon. For what that’s worth. (I hope a lot!)
I now understand that
while it would be lovely to meet a whole new group of potential work buddies and
have them adore me, it’s not imperative. Unlike when I went to school the last
time, I have a group of supportive friends, great former colleagues and a host
of people I can draw on in a pinch.
I’ve also learned that I can’t make people like me. Which is
good, because anyone that you can make like you, usually isn’t really a decent
friend anyway. Chalk that wisdom up to
age and experience.
Also I've noticed that lately I don’t really give a damn. If
somebody doesn’t like me, it’s a bummer, because everybody wants to be liked.
But if they don’t, I’ll live. And probably thrive.
The folks that my career depends upon liking me don’t have
to adore me. They just have to know they can depend on me. And they usually do.
This time, like every other time I went to school, what I’m
really afraid of is getting lost. Even with GPS I get lost everywhere.
My undergraduate college was pretty small,
but I managed to spend the first few days of my freshman year wandering around
in a daze. I ended up in the art department a few times, and did spend a lot of
time walking around with a map up to my nose. They have an app for that now.
Now instead of being branded as a Freshman because of the
map, all student look alike: they have cell phones in front of their faces.
Which may be useful in places where Freshmen are hazed.
When I went to graduate school my classes weren’t even held
on the main campus, they were in downtown Chicago, which brought a whole
other level of getting lost. I missed L exits and ended up in odd, unpleasant
places. It wasn’t efficient, and I was late for a lot of classes, but I sure
did get to know the city.
This time I’m going to UCLA. UCLA is big. Huge, even. In all the years I have lived in Los Angeles I’ve
only been on campus a few times. Those were for concerts that I was working. That didn’t intimidate me much.
I had great plans to scope out the school today, since class
starts tomorrow. I was going to get a parking pass and a map. Or app. Naturally
that didn’t happen.
My house is pretty much as far away from UCLA as you can get
and still be in Los Angeles. So I’m going to leave an hour and a half early
tomorrow. I won’t have a Pokeman
backpack, but I’ll be clutching a tote bag I won at a horse show filled with
notebooks and pens.
But I’ll still be the one holding the map in front of my
nose.
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