By the way, guys, I made a huge-ass life decision this week. I have decided on a college. And it’s quite literally across the country, Boston to be exact (why yes, I am trying to put as much distance between myself and my parents as possible). I guess now I have to learn how to spell Massachewtits. So which of the fabulous universities in Boston will I be attending? Northeastern, which I chose specifically so I could not be in Boston.
You see, Northeastern has a thing called a co-op program (not pronounced “coop”) which is basically where they send you on extended, paid internships for six months at a time. That way, I’ll graduate college not only with a major in Music Industry, but also with a fleshy resume. I can spend eighteen months in three completely different places. I’m thinking Buenos Aires, Chicago, and New York.
And then I’ll move to that hellhole known as LA. Because that is where the music industry is located. I’ll sell myself out and produce crappy pop songs that objectify women, cover up scandals that my dumb pop stars get themselves involved in, and eventually kill myself. Method of choice: full body paper cuts inflicted by an edition of Rolling Stone. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
It snows in Boston. I’ve seen snow maybe twice in my life, and for my readers who live in cold climates, I pose a question to you: WHAT IS THIS HELL POWDER?! Because it is nothing like the piles of loose fluff they have on Christmas cards. It actually snowed the morning I was leaving the city. It turned into slick, three dimensional puddles of ice that somehow managed to soak through my converse even though they were frozen solid. So you know, not looking forward to that.
I am, however, looking forward to my classes. I took a tour of the campus, which did not include a tour of the art building. My dad and I decided that if we’re going to be paying 20 grand a year for me to go the school, we are legally allowed to walk around like we own the place. So we marched into the art building, and snooped around the music industry area. It just so happened that the head of the music industry program was taking his coffee break at the same time. He offered to talk to me about the program, and after a long, 40 minute discussion, managed to convince me that I am not, in fact, majoring in unemployment.
As far as my learning experience goes, it’s the teachers that are going to make the difference (I’ve talked about this), not the equipment. My other college contender was Drexel University in Philadelphia. While that school had far better facilities and access to studios, the professors weren’t quite on the same level. They were passionate, sure, but they seemed to be the types who taught by the book, whereas my future professor at Northeastern seemed to be much better at real conversation. And you know a teacher is good when everyone of his students who walk by say hello (I was tempted to say “hello future classmate” but chickened out). While I’m going to have a lot of other classes and professors there, I’m assuming that where there’s one (in this case good professor) there’s more. Hopefully great teachers come in flocks.
So, you know, now that I’ve sent in my deposit, it’s all very real. In 4 months, I will be living across the country, pursuing my American dream. With debt.