One of my biggest regrets in university might be how liberal I was with my email address in first year. There’s a mindset that comes from being told over and over again to broaden your horizons and get involved with university life, both valid pieces of advice, which results in a little too much eagerness and optimism when taken to the extreme.
Activities Night in particular requires self-control and discretion. Do not act like someone at a buffet after a week-long hunger strike. In first year, I wandered around and signed myself up for anything and everything I considered slightly interesting, even if only for 30 seconds. Our House Music society? Sure, there was that one time I went to a warehouse party and there was loud electronic music, I could be interested in techno and trance. McGill Rotary Club? I’ve volunteered before and had fun, so why not. SOS Tutoring? I peer tutored a few times in high school, and I’m not sure how much I helped the student in question by correcting her French pronunciation as she stumbled through Asterix comic books, but saving the world through tutoring sounds like a good deal. Origami Club? Origami is one of those mysterious skills that my cool friends know how to do and I’ve always wanted to learn but never bothered to (maybe because when I really think about it, I have better things to do with my time). Swing Dancing Club? Never tried it but it sounds fun.
Inevitablym three years later, I’ve realised not only that I am no longer interested in most of the groups and activities I thought were cool in first year, but also I was probably not all that interested in the first place. I was spurred on to sign up by the excitement of university life and the endless possibilities available in front of me.
Writing down your email for anything that sounds remotely interesting is a good idea, in theory, allowing you to filter through the plethora of activities at McGilland find something you’re actuallyinterested in. Unfortunately, I’vefound that it’s sometimes easier to not sign up in the first place than it is to unsubscribe. As old listservs pile up and gather rust in my inbox, my desperate replies which usually say “unsubscribe” in the subject line and then “Please take me off your list serv (it’s nothing personal, I’m just not interested in your club anymore)” in the email are ignored. The self-serve unsubscribe method is often just as useless. Clicking one of those “unsubscribe” links at the bottom of a listserv leads to a labyrinthan google group where supposedly, somewhere, there is the option to remove yourself from the list-serv. Only if you have the patience and determination to find it— and the secret code given to you by the elves of Rivendell or something like that—will you be able to remove yourself from the listserv.
Now, when someone asks for my email, I give them a suspicious look and ask why in my most menacing tone. I treat my email address like it’s my phone number and everyone who asks for it is a potential telemarketer. I’ve learned that, when it comes to new activities, I need to think of my email frustration before I let my eagerness overtake me.
