Chapter 9

I was having trouble concentrating. Usually, nothing broke into my study regime, but for the past two weeks my habits had been erratic. I would sit down and my computer and stare. I would try and read an article and the words just clumped together, giving me a headache as I tried to push through a page. This wasn’t normal. I prided myself on the fact that nothing could distract me. Julie often joked about it, nicknaming my study regime as “turning on my robot mode”. It wasn’t far off really; to study, I went into my room, put on headphones, turned my winamp player to shuffle, and set off to work. I could go for hours without interruption, the random tunes ranging from Vivaldi to Ingram Hill composing a soft background to my typing. No snack breaks, no phone calls, no thoughts unrelated to the homework in front of me. But now – now fifteen minutes would pass and I would have to get up and move around, snack on something, check email, or plain just leave the room.

I wasn’t sure what was bothering me so much. Well, that’s not entirely true. I knew what was bothering me, but didn’t know why. It pretty much came down to the fact that my paper, that lovely research piece I was doing for Mr. Becker, had taken on monumental personal importance. Somehow, his approval of my work had made it even more important that I write something groundbreaking, impressive and memorable.

Doesn’t it seem that, as certain parts of life begin to make sense, other parts naturally fall apart? I was thinking about this more and more as the semester went on. After Dad died, my world seemed completely irrational. Nothing made sense to me, and for months I floated along, living day to day without an idea of how each day related to the next. By going back to school, life gained structure. The regimentation of a schedule gave me a sense of order, the feeling that somehow my life was piecing itself back together again. But, as I got more and more involved in my research project for Mr. Becker’s class, the less certain I felt about what lay ahead in my future.

More and more, I found myself fighting thoughts in my head – images of me as a slightly nerdy, eclectic academic spending my days in libraries and coffee shops, nights with my television and my computer. I imagined myself making a life around being an expert of something – something that required me to overanalyze and critique cheesy sitcoms or dramas. I mean, if I could do it, I’d actually have an excuse for spending as much time with my television as I now did.

I was well aware of the similarity between the images I had for the future of my life and the images I had created of the life of Mr. Becker. The respect I had for him had grown significantly. Quite simply, I idolized him. In my world of interests, he was Michael Jordan.

Mr. Becker represented the type of person I hoped to become. He seemed to be doing something because he truly loved it. He taught with an exuberance that was infectious and communicated a sincerity that no one could question. And he seemed completely at ease with who he was and the life he had chosen to live.

It was an idealistic vision, and I realized it. It was idyllic, romanticized, and completely based on my imagination. That is why, no matter how much the academic life appealed to me, I told myself it was foolish to try and make it anything more than an undergraduate field of study. I repeated this rationale again and again as I searched online for internships, as I filled out application forms and submitted resumes, when I went to Barnes & Noble to pick up the first of three study aids to assist in my preparations for the LSAT and the GMAT.

I was dealing with this dilemma surrounding my future career path the best way I knew how; I continued all the leg work to prepare for my original career plans while looking at various graduate programs in media studies. On the days I wasn’t working on my revising my resume, I was scanning websites for fellowships or grants geared for students pursuing master degrees. I was trying to leave myself with the option to do either while ignoring the obvious need to make a decision.

I had finally reached a zone with my writing when I heard a knock on my apartment door. I ignored it at first, but I soon recognized a distinct pattern to the tapping. Three taps followed by a pause followed by two. That meant either Emily or Julie had decided to drop by. It was our secret code from our days as roommates. I would only interrupt robot mode for the secret knock.

I opened the door to Emily’s big smile and a plate of freshly baked snicker doodles. I’m a sucker for snicker doodles, so the scowl I was originally wearing melted into a grin.

“I thought a treat might be in order…seeing as you’ve ignored phone calls and emails for the last two weeks…”

I sighed. I was about to defend myself, but the words died on my lips. She was right. I was purposely hiding.

“What can I say, besides I’m sorry?”

Emily went straight to the kitchen and placed the cookies on the counter dividing my kitchen from the main living space. She pulled out a couple of glasses, poured some milk into each, and grabbed a seat on one of the stools. I followed suit, grabbing a cookie and devouring it in four quick bites.

“It was a good thing that I brought food,” Emily observed as I reached for another. Her remark had me calculating the last time I had gotten around to eating something. As I tried to count the hours on my hand I realized it had probably been too long.

“I was caught up with my research paper for Becker. The first full draft is due next Friday…I want to have it done by Tuesday to give me some time to proofread it.”

Emily shot me one of her patented “you’re insane” stares; there it was, the raising of one eyebrow, the narrowing of the other, and the slow downturn of the corners of her mouth.

“You’ve been obsessing about that paper this entire semester. Why is it so important to you? I mean, yes, you like to do well, but this is going to an entirely new level of overachieving…”

“I know, I know. It seems a little extreme. I’ll admit it. But, for some reason, I want to write something spectacular for Becker’s class…a paper that will…will somehow, I dunno, leave a lasting impression…that somehow shows how much I learned from him, I guess…”

“You know you’ll be fine. You always make a great impression with your professors…I don’t know of a single professor that hasn’t thought you were a great student…”

“Hmm…yeah, I guess. But, in this case, I want to be more…I want to be…I want to be…well…the best student he’s ever had…I want…well…to be…memorable.”

Emily laughed at me then. “You were never one to set a low standard of excellence. Still, it seems rather extreme. Is making yourself standout in Becker’s class so crucial that its worth dissolving any semblance of a social life to?”

I didn’t know what to say. She had a point.

“It’s hard to explain…and I am not that sure that it makes sense, but for some reason it is.”

I paused, trying to sort out the best way to organize the various random arguments that I had been creating in my head to justify my actions over the last couple of months.

“You know what it is like to be fascinated by someone? To meet someone and, well, want to learn what makes them tick, what makes them the person they are?”

Emily was nodding, but I could see the beginnings of a smirk at the corners of her lips.

“What?”

“No…it’s nothing…well, it’s just that, when I feel like that about a person, it usually means I have a crush on them.”

“Well…see…that’s the thing. It’s not a crush, though I am sure people would see it that way. Anyways, it’s just…well…when I talked to Becker, I felt like I had finally met someone…well…who I could trust. Not only did he have an answer to, well, every question I could think of for my paper, but he seemed to be so, I don’t know, sure of what he was doing, what he was passionate about. It’s…it’s comforting to be around someone so sure of what they want and who they are. Does that make a little more sense? I admire him. I respect him. He is one of the few people I have met that can inform my rather obscure interests. He is the only person I have actually had a chance to discuss those interests with. It makes me want to, well, find a way to get to know him – to be more than one of his hundreds of random students. I’d like to be a colleague at least…perhaps, hopefully, a friend someday… I know… pathetic … lame…”

“No…not really. It makes some sense. I really admire my boss at work and it makes me strive harder to meet his approval. It’s like, if he likes me, then I meet his standards. Since I respect him, his approval shows that I somehow have passed his evaluation.”

“Yeah…yeah, something like that.”

I looked and Emily and saw her original smirk become a smile. Then she started to giggle.

“What? What?!”

“Well, even though I respect my boss, and I want his approval, I also had a crush on him as well…just something for you to think about…”

I broke off a piece of my third snickerdoodle and threw it at her.