Author: Blair Gould

They say that we go to school to learn, so that someday we can implement that knowledge in “the real world”.

I think the idea of the “real world” is fake. 

We’ve been living in the “real world” this whole time. We’ve had to fight our own battles, cry when we needed to, and celebrated when we deserve it. We’ve felt realemotions, and we’ve allowed our scars to become part of us. We’re resilient, smart, strong. We’re real. 

I became a writing minor because I love to write.

I never thought of the privilege that the minor has granted us until now. 

Every day, we are presented with the opportunity to reflect. We are encouraged to use our words to sort through difficult times, and to capture our growth. Our writing has become increasingly personal rather that academic. 

The capstone project has been a unique opportunity for self exploration and reflection. Too often, students are inspired by a prompt. We must fulfil certain expectations in our writing, adhere to the restrictive margins. Throughout this semester, we found inspiration through our unique passions. We set our own guidelines. I think this project has helped all of us find our voice, and ensured us that our writing process won’t end on May 4^th.

We’re not being shoved into the “real world”, but rather experiencing the world through a different lens. Without the title of “student”, we are allowed to become more of us. We’re allowed to create our own projects, and are responsible for continuing to write and capture our growth. 

I think we’re all a little uncomfortable with the uncertainty that lies ahead. But, uncertainty leads to opportunities, experiences & moments. I’m certain it will lead to great things for all of you. 

I’m over it. Over homework, over exams, over school in general. With one month left in my collegiate career, it is much more tempting to go on a walk with friends or even apply for jobs online than it is go to a library and write. I guess senioritis is back in full force and I’m just ready to jump into the real world.

But at the same time, I’m hanging onto everything by a thread. I don’t want to be done with my capstone project, or my exams, or going to classes because that means it’s all over. Life as I know it, life as a student is over. I seriously have SIX pages left in a book because I don’t want to find out how the characters were killed, and I don’t want to be done with it. I almost made it through an entire season in a TV series, but quit halfway through the season finale. Maybe I’m a quitter. Maybe I just like the idea that I can go back to something and it still needs me. Maybe I’m just in denial.

Ironically, my letter of interest for the MiW program was all about “getting stuck” in the writing process. I wrote that I wanted to learn how to get unstuck, and help others get unstuck. I hope I have accomplished the latter goal, though it is apparent in this moment I myself am still in quicksand. I had so much hope for this capstone project, so much that I wanted to put into it. While I think it will shape out the way I want it to this semester, I also must remember that the project itself won’t end at the deadline. I can always pick up my project in the future and push it to the next level. The reason I centered my project on a single made up word (Sonder) was because I’ve had years of fascinating realizations that will continue to occur as I move through life. This may be the first chapter, but it won’t be the last.

What started out as a project intended to explore the minds of others has drastically shifted to a project about my own anxieties and fears. When trying to find an audience who would read and appreciate my capstone project (besides my lovely classmates who will be forced to read it), I was stuck.

For those who are unfamiliar, my project started with a curiosity for a made up word. Sonder can now be found in the Dictionary of Obscure Words, and can be defined as “the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid & complex as your own.” This word has been stuck in my mind for years now, and I suppose I have romanticized it over time. The harsh reality struck that others don’t think the same way about the concept of sonder as I do. Some people think “of course people have their own sh*t going on.” But for me, I’ve realized my affinity for this word is derived from my anxiety of comparing myself to others. With just two months until doomsday (otherwise known as graduation), the countless possibilities my future holds bears a weight on me. As my peers begin to sign contracts, I am forced to consider the likely chance I won’t have a job after college. And that’s probably because I don’t exactly know what I want to do yet. So that’s why I like the idea of sonder. I’m so curious about how others know what they want to do. When I overhear conversations in the street I can’t help but wonder who the people are and what it is they want to do. And how they figured it out. So, I guess my challenge was not only realizing the route of my project, but also trying to find an audience. My audience is people like me. People who are on the brink of a life change and don’t exactly know how to cope. People who feel lost, and look to others for certainty but instead find more confusion. At the same time I’m an optimist, so my project is also about how strangers can impact our own perception of ourselves. How one person can say something to us and it completely spirals and changes what we do.

I’ll be walking home from class, the icy wind scratching at my face when BOOM – I come up with the most brilliant idea for a book. The next Great American Novel. Perhaps even a Nobel Peace Prize. As I sprint home, characters and plots spinning around my head, I’m really confident that this time, this is it. I’ll fling open the door, grab my computer and notebook, open a blank page and then it all disappears. It’s happened more times than I would like to admit. The ideas evaporate, off into the abyss of Stories I’ll Never Tell.

Why do all my thoughts escape me when it becomes time to write them down? Am I too shy, of even myself? Is it the fear that these ideas, once typed out, become real? Maybe I’ll realize that my idea was silly, or already over done, or just plain old bad. Maybe losing my thoughts to the abyss is better than realizing that they weren’t worth writing out.

It could also be my fear of commitment. Sure, I can come up with some outlandish plots, but sticking to one concept for a whole paper, nevermind a whole course or BOOK is just too much. As the impending commitment to a capstone topic looms ahead, my assurance on selecting just one subject to marry dissipates. What if I run out of things to say? What if I’m ten pages in, and realize I hate it all?

I absolutely loathe to use this quote, but I’m realizing it might be the only proper way to sum up my feelings. “Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game”. Yick. But, credit where credit is due. It’s true – I am afraid of failure, of judgement, of having my ideas be bad. I’m afraid to play the damn game. This semester, and essentially the rest of my life will be a struggle to find confidence in my writing. It will be the conflict of marrying an idea, but letting it flourish. It will be the battle of Blair versus the abyss.

Establishing rituals is one way to combat my fears. Open to hear any other suggestions on how to get over my fears 🙂