Indecision usually doesn't come into play when choosing between a delicacy and a downer. You'd think one would never choose to drink warm muddy water over an ice cold glass of lemonade. But, a warm muddy glass of water looks like a fresh squeezed glass of lemonade to a misguided adventurer stranded- parched- in the desert. That’s what communication studies was to me. I was stranded in the vast plains of the engineering desert in southern Los Angeles, constantly being threatened by wild packs of integrals and swarms of algorithmic equations. Communications looked like the ice cold glass of lemonade that would save me from a dry death.
I walked into the communication Advisor’s office, sure that this department would be eager to cultivate me as one of its worthy members. A goofy man with thick round glasses, a top hat, and a voice with an impressive volume welcomed me in. I sat down, and noticed surf magazine and a saxophone; this guy was cool! This is how I met Dean Scheibel. We ended up going to lunch at the lair, all the while Scheibel was feeling me out, asking questions that penetrated to my inner core and revealed my intentions for wanted to switch out of engineering to communication.
I could tell a lot of people just wanted an easy out from engineering, and that this happened quite frequently. Of course, that wasn’t what I wanted: I was fine. I had managed to maintain an impressive GPA throughout my engineering career, the only reason I wanted to switch was because I LOVED communication. We signed the papers, finalizing my switch out of engineering and into communication studies. I took a draw from the glass I found in the desert when I suddenly realized that it didn’t taste anything like lemonade; I spit out a gulp of muddy water. What did I just do? I have no fucking clue what communication studies is.
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