Welcome to the fake world

The most frustrating aspect of j-school is that you can't do your homework if your homework doesn't call you back.

I skipped school this morning to make phone calls. None of the phone messages I left on Friday have been returned, so it's time to leave another round of voicemail. "Hi, my name is Jessica and I'm a writer for McClung's Magazine, a Ryerson-based publication. I'm currently writing a story on _______ and would like to conduct a short 5 to 10 minute interview with________. . ." I could recite this in my sleep.

Skipping school is the only way to get homework done, because interviews with businesses can only be conducted between 9 and 5, which is exactly the same hours I should be at my own work* and school. My mom keeps telling me, "well, that's how it is in the real world." I beg to differ. Because in the "real world" we wouldn't have to rush out of our offices to answer phone calls from interview subjects, or our case, lecture halls and computer labs,** and we wouldn't have to let our marks slide in one class because we have to regularly skip it into order to get any work done.

I hate the phrase, "Wait until you get into the real world." I have over $10,000 in loans, all accumulated in the past year alone. I work two regular part-time jobs, and a third freelance marketing job. I go to school full-time. I have three mentees and write for a magazine. My peers have stress problems, medications, illnesses. We have appointments with professors, we have editors, and we have notes and reminders scribbled all over hands and agendas. We're all struggling to stay afloat at this time of the year.

So have I been living in a fake world this whole time?

I'm not complaining, though. Not now. Being sick as put some things into prespective for me, and I'm thriving off the work load and the craziness. I'm singing on the way to school, sidestepping puddles in the park, I'm laughing with my roomates and I'm daydreaming about a certain A. Dodd. We're drinking beer and waiting for spring to come. We're commiserating about our stories and taking secret pleasure in the fact that our potential career choices afford us the opportunity to talk to drug dealers, sex experts, politicians, musicians and drag queens.

I'm enjoying this world, regardless of whether it's real of not.

Now if only one of my interview subjects would call back. . .

____________________________________________________________

*This week at work, Tas, the girl who does payroll, informed me that I always have the least number of hours because I'm always calling into work at the last minute, saying I can't come in because I have to do an interview.

**This happens nearly every class. Our phones are constantly on vibrate and it's completely normal to see people run out into the hall in the middle of class, pad of paper and pen in hand. While this doesn't seem odd or peculiar to us, I suspect it would to other faculties.