School of Creative Communication

When I told a good friend of mine that I was writing a brief account of my days at UC, she took the courtesy of writing one for me. Here's what she came up with.

Hi, my names George. I rite things sumtimes. I wen to uni. I wasn't a homo then, but I am now. I am singel. Dayt me. Also, my favrit tuter was Matt Marshall - he tort me about preest fiddling and jebus. I learnt a lot from uni, and I think evrywun shood go. The end.

In case that doesn't fly (that's right, fly), here's a piece I prepared myself. You decide which is more accurate.

When I decided to gamble three years of my life at UC, my initial goal was to become a film editor. Instead, I ended up working as a magazine editor. Go figure. I'd never even considered writing as a career. I only enrolled in professional writing because I needed another major. As it turned out, I was actually half-decent at it.

First year was daunting. I soon realised that I was never actually taught the fundamentals of grammar (either that or I just never paid attention), and found myself embarrassedly asking what an adjective was. But with a little guidance from some ridiculously helpful tutors, I eventually sorted it all out, and was swiftly on my way to becoming completely awesome. But I wasn't always this awesome (or modest).

I was always the guy who said that uni was just about obtaining a piece of paper that would score me a sweet job. But then - and here's the strange part - I actually started learning stuff. It's true! While some people say that writing is all about creativity, and that you can't be taught how to write, what these people are forgetting is how ignorant they are. I couldn't begin to tell you how much there is to learn. If I tried, it'd probably take me, I don't know, at least three years.

And so, fast forward to three years later. Once I'd learnt everything there was to know - or at least as much as my empty pockets could take - the hardest part was actually doing something with these mad skills of mine. While the course tried to prepare me for just how difficult it is to get published out there in the real world, somehow I was too deluded for any of it to sink in. Yet somehow, all these years later, here I am, the fancy editor of a fancy magazine. So I guess this degree helped me to some, erm, degree, right? I mean, I didn't get where I am because of a piece of paper with my name on it, but because of the invaluable knowledge I gained while earning said paper.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm awesome. Or that adjectives are descriptive words. Or that if all you're after is a degree, you're probably better off saving a few years and just doctoring one. I forget. All I know is that I'd definitely recommend this course to anyone interested in writing for a living. Personally, I'd go back and learn me some more if I could, but right now, I have my sights set on conquering the world, one magazine at a time.

© George Poulakis