So, it’s now the fall semester of my junior year, and I have yet to build a resume.
I ran cross country for all of one semester before quitting via email to my coach (at least it wasn’t a text message, but still…shame on me), so I guess it’s safe to say that that’s out.
Right now, I’m ‘interning’ (JRN 288) at the Stony Brook Independent, although I must admit, the seven-story requirement is intimidating. But still…that’s at least something, right?
Case in point: I’ve been thinking more and more frequently about the law school applications that I’m sure I’ll learn to dread filling out in the alarmingly not-so-distant future, and I suppose that now is the time to cram in some decent extracurriculars if I want to at least create the illusion that I’m doing a little more here at Stony Brook than eating their food and breathing their air (though I think it’s fair to add that my near-obsessive patronage has probably led to a serious expansion of the S.A.C. chili budget).
Sometime over the summer, I began skimming through a PDF document of university club offerings in search of the one that I’ve wanted to join since I was a wee, doe-eyed, stereotypically confused little freshman still getting shut out of my team’s own lockerroom due to ignorance of the lock code. I was going to be a writer-no, the highest-ranking editor of-the Stony Brook University literary magazine. Now, if only I could find the thing…