Do the Panic

Quote: "Act in earnest and you will become earnest in all you do." – William James

The drive to Montclair State University was a simple one. I smiled as listened to the playlist I’d created for the ride long before I’d completed the resume they had asked me to write up. I’m not sure what a fact like that says about me. The fact that I make playlists for the drive to an interview before taking care of the paper work I would have to present to what could be my future school. Included were songs that made me believe in escaping. Devil Town – Bright Eyes, I’m Ready I Am – The Format, Gone Going – Jack Johnson, Leaving Town – Dexter Freebish and those are just four of the twenty five.

I arrived forty minutes early. I sat in my car, turning my ipod off. Noise no longer felt appropriate. I drummed my fingers along the steering wheel, picked lint off my suit, turned my cell phone off, double checked my stiff, gelled hair. I’d decided to exit the vehicle exactly thirty minutes before my interview was to take place, assuming it would give me enough time to find the building while still allowing me to be appropriately early. I was the second person to arrive. There were maybe thirty interviews scheduled that day, all thirty of us would take a tour of the television studio before they gave us a brief overview of the Broadcasting department. After that we would be asked to do a writing sample during which we would be called in for interviews.

I can’t get over how legit the studio is. Lights, cameras, sets, editing equipment. I was in awe. You’ll notice I speak in broad, cliche terms "lights", "cameras", "sets". They tell me it’s state of  the art and I believe them but let’s face it, most of that equipment was foreign to me. It certainly wasn’t foreign to the annoyingly pretentious aspiring film maker who asked about a dozen questions through out the tour. Her questions were never general. She didn’t ask about the work load or the amount of credits in each class. She was curious as to whether or not she’d be able to use the editing room for her own personal creations. She asked a bunch of other questions too about things I’d never heard of, though the tour guide seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. I hated her with every fiber of my being.

I listened to the overview of the Broadcasting program led by the department head. It required hard work, dedication…and then I found myself drifting off. I’d begun to stare at the short blonde student standing next to him who would soon hand out bens. Donning a Phillie’s T-shirt, haird piled up on her head, she smiled brightly to each person she handed a writing untencil to. Including me. I wanted to scoop her up, kiss her neck and….Shit. I’d stopped listening. It hadn’t been my fault, I’d pictured us eventually editing a project together, her laughing at my jokes. Me telling her she was much better than the boyfriend she’d broken up with a few months back. One thing leading to another…

PAY ATTENTION.

For the rest of the presentation I kept my eyes off of her. Listening to the words that were spoken, kicking myself for day dreaming. It wasn’t as if anyone around me knew, but I felt like they did. I could just picture the professors in the room were shaking their heads, knowing full well they’d never accept the pervert in the middle row who was fantasizing about the nice girl handing out pens. I was glad when I could finally put my pen to paper and begin the writing sample. It was simple really, why was I interested in broadcasting, what experience did I have, and why was I choosing Montclair.

I wrote furiously and honestly. I normally steer clear of any emotion in situations like this but knew my 3.159 GPA wasn’t going to knock anyone off their feet. Today was all about putting my heart on the line. I’d explained my interest had been piqued at an early age. I wrote about the script I’d written at age 9, which I’d forced my friends to act in and my mother to film. How even though I’d stopped making movies at age 9 being part of the creative process that is film making was thrilling. I explained beyond adding a music bed to a commercial I’d recorded for my radio broadcasting class at my county college I had no experience but was eager to learn everything there was to know. I spoke about how much I admired the passion of both the students and faculty involved in the Broadcasting program and how I longed to one day be a part of it. It was a work of art really. When I finished I began to scan the room. I hadn’t been the first too finish though many were still scribbling words onto their paper. Curiousity got the best of me so I leaned forward, attempting to take a peek at the kid’s paper in front of me. I didn’t read past the first first line which read: My interest in Broadcasting comes from my father who is a producer at MSNBC…
 I swear to God I nearly fell off my chair. Pretenious flim makers, guy’s heavily connected by means of Daddy, hot blondes skilled at handing out pens, this was my competition and by the time my name was called, I was no longer sure I measured up.

As I followed the man, who literally would decide the course of the rest of my life, into his office I became hyper aware of every part of my being. The sweaty palms, the way my knees crack when I walk, the black and red squares that over took my tie. I’d dressed much more formally than my competition, something I’d begun to regret. Taking a seat I repeated in my head the words my mother had said when I’d protested a suit was too much. "No one has ever not been hired because they looked too good."

"Tell me about yourself,"

This is how the interview began. Broad, open for interperation. Terrifying. I gave my back story, why I’d attended county college for two years, discussed my strengths, attempted to gloss over my weaknesses. I explained my joy of writing, presenting him with a research paper I’d written at the end of my first year of school. Told him I felt it was something I was good at, though my math skills differed substantially. "In fact, I’m usually more comfortable writing than I am talking." He explained that he felt I’d done a pretty good job talking and suddenly I relaxed. I really hit my stride when he asked about what experience I had in terms of broadcasting. I explained the the music bed and commercial, noting that my school didn’t have a television studio. Then, completely opened up.

"I’ll be the first to tell you I don’t have a lot of experience, any really. But I love television. My DVR is currently 80% full right now and it’s not just mindless TV. I pay attention to the camera angles, the character development, all the little things that go into putting a TV show on the air. To be a part of that process, actually being part of the creative process, even entry level positions, would be amazing to me. Honestly, most of what I know about the subject comes from google, but this is what  I’m really interested in. When I like something, I love it. I give it my all. So no, I don’t have a lot of experience in Broadcasting but I have never been more excited to learn about something in my entire life."

And it’s true. My grades are merely good, my experience nil, but damn am I earnest. I think he saw it too because by the end of the interview he was telling me about how the deparment has summer sessions in Italy and that even though it was late in the game, I could look into signing up for this coming summer. We talked a little more about Montclair before I shook his hand, the interview I’d spent 4 months stressing about was now over. I’d hear from them within a week.

There is literally nothing left to do but wait. And stress. Why stress? Because I have no plan B. I didn’t apply to any other schools and another semester of community college is out of the question. Plus, most classes for the fall have already begun to fill up. I almost typed that I’d hoped wanting it bad enough would be enough, but that statement doesn’t do it justice. I worked hard, opened up and really strove for this. For the next seven days or so I will cross my fingers.

And panic.