Erin Go Blah

Let me tell you a story.

One St. Patrick's day, let's call it 'this St. Patrick's day', Erin went to school. She didn't want to go to school. The thought of 12 hours straight of school then school work then more school in one day was unappealing. The thought of any amount of school and school work and more school was unappealing.

She'd finally had it.

Actually, she'd had it since December 28nd, 2007, but now she'd really had it.

Let me back up a bit so you can understand that last sentence...

Sometime in the year 2004, Erin decided she wanted to be a journalist.
Sometime in the year 2005, Erin decided to go to journalism school.
Sometime in the year 2006, Erin was excepted into journalism school.
Early in the year 2007, Erin decided she did not like journalism school
Late in the year 2007, Erin decided she really didn't like journalism school and didn't know why she was working so hard at it when it was so far removed from the kind of writing she wanted to do.

Then, on December 28, 2007, a letter came to Erin in the mail saying that classes would be pushed back by a week because of contract negotiation squabbles. Her first thought was, "yes! One more week that I don't have to read the news, and even better, I don't have to write it."

A week turned into a month, turned into a month and a week and all was back to normal, all were back to classes.

Erin was relatively neutral toward the whole affair. She'd trained herself to be neutral when dealing with her feelings about journalism school. But the neutrality was seeping into her work and her motivation, causing the latter to disappear, causing the former to suffer.

So... she'd had it since December 28nd, 2007, but now she'd really had it.

Until one St Patrick's Day, let's call it, 'this St Patrick's Day', after school then school work then more school, Erin stayed after class to talk to her friend outside the building. Her professor and mentor and constant inspiration and guide to emulation came out and asked if they needed a ride home, since it was almost 10pm and they were the only two left. Jon's ride was coming, but Erin was waalking, so she accepted the professor's offer.

He said, "so Erin, how are you?"

She said, "Good... well, actually, I'm not good. I don't know why I said I was."

That launched a forty-five minute discussion about how she had becomed disillusioned by the whole journalistic process and just wanted to write fiction, and didn't know why she was still persuing it when her heart wasn't in it and blah, blah, blah.

He offered her unbiased advice, asatute observations, and genuine words of encouragement that included, but also went far beyond "you've come this far." and "finish what you started." He also offered alternatives within the journalistic profession that she hadn't thought of and seemed like options she might be interested in.

He said he would give Erin a stack of books to read - books by Hunter Thompson, Tom Wolfe, Norman Mailer, Jack Kerouac etc. - before she made up her mind absolutely. He said if she was inspired by their books, then there would be nothing stopping her from joining their ranks.

Maybe it was a St. Paddy's day miracle, or maybe just the luck of the Irish,
but by the end of that one St Patrick's Day, let's call it, 'this St. Patrick's Day', Erin was feeling a little bit better.