By Zoe Jessica Dawson
It’s been 168 hours since Marc called me to tell me it was coming home. 168 hours of that damn song in my head. 168 hours of at least some part of my brain preoccupied by SCA.
Here’s an overview:
30 seconds screaming down the phone to Marc.
A minute screaming down the phone to Mum.
5 minutes calming down my dog after all of the screaming.
30 minutes driving somewhere, windows down, Billy Joel playing (guilty pleasure), with the biggest grin of my life on my face.
The crash. An emotional high brings an emotional low and the rest of the night I was a grumpy little shit.
48 hours of denial.
The email from Marcia: reading list, SCABs, adobe tools, scholarship brief, passion project, GO.
2 hours of panic.
1 hour of self doubt. (The first of many). I’m not good enough at illustrator, I don’t know anything about company’s stock prices, I can’t possibly write one of the holy SCABs I’ve been reading for the last 2 months. Do I even have any passions? Fuck, can I even read?
Many hours worrying about money.
A couple of hours beating myself up for the “idiot tax” of not making time for the scholarship brief when I could’ve got 17k for it, when I have to do it now anyway.
More hours of panic.
30 seconds googling ‘how to change the stock price of a company,’ followed by 30 seconds laughing at myself for googling ‘how to change the stock price of a company.’
Every spare moment brainstorming passion projects. The most exciting of the assignments. An excuse to put a project to a passion. An excuse to actually do something I want to do, rather than just thinking about it.
And yet, at least 8 hours thinking about it, and 0 hours doing it.
30 minutes explaining the school to my friends. No, not a masters. No, not a job. Sure, I guess it’s kind of like a year long professional love island?
30 minutes defending spending instead of making money to friends.
Multiple hours defending spending instead of making money to family.
4 or 5 hours reading.
3 or 4 hours playing on Photoshop.
1 hour Facebook/Twitter/Instagram stalking to try and find my intake buddies.
30 minutes watching shortlisted scholarship entries. My first hour of imposter syndrome. Holy crap that cardboard thing was epic.
1 hour reading my horoscope for the next year to see how the universe might help me at SCA.
1 hour of pep talking myself to grow a pair and go to the party. 5 minutes sitting on the loo when I got to the party, scared to go in. Yet, of course, only 30 seconds of awkwardness when I first met my peers, followed by 3 hours of drinking, talking and having a lovely time.
Which takes us to now. 1 hour writing my first SCAB. Reflecting on the 168 hours I’ve spent on a huge emotional rollercoaster. Preparing me for the 8,760-hour rollercoaster that will be SCA.
But, some constants:
168 hours proud. 168 hours shitting myself. And 168 hours buzzing.