It’s Sunday today. I’ve just gotten back from a fat night out at fabric to discover a message in my inbox from Marcia – my official offer from SCA2.0 has arrived. Along with that was included a nine-page document from Marc outlining a series of tasks that I’m expected to complete in the next few weeks prior to the start of Term 1. One of those tasks is to begin writing SCABs, so here we are. These are my first thoughts and feelings that I’m having in the opening moments of my SCA journey:

Dear God What Have I Gotten Myself Into.

Marc’s first tasks, whilst achievable and definitely a prudent warm-up for the coming year, have given me a sense of scale as to the level of effort that SCA is going to demand from me in the months ahead. It’s thrilling – I’m salivating at the prospect of the challenge – but intimidating too. Will I be level to the task? Quite apart from the looming question of whether my best will be good enough, my mind is preyed on by the worry that I might not even be able to muster my best in the first place. Do I have a sufficient work ethic? When push comes to shove will it break me? No matter how certain I am that seeking a place at the school is the best decision I have ever made, that fear of inadequacy leaks in around the edges of my brain. I suppose only time will tell. In the meantime, all I can do is the work that’s in front of me.

Holy Mackerel This Is So Exciting.

SCA! I’m going to SCA! Me! Ever since I got the call from Marc telling me I’d made the cut the thought has been dancing around the inside of my skull like a pleasant tinnitus, ringing in my ears any time I have a quiet moment. Cor blimey. I ask myself what specifically I’m excited for; let’s see. The people I’m going to meet: I’m positively dribbling at the thought of how funky and interesting and dastardly clever the people at SCA – students and mentors – will doubtless be. The things I’m going to learn: arcane secrets and dazzling insights that’ll set my brain fizzing with ideas I’ve never considered and perspectives I’ve never held. Working really really hard: I did technically go to university but I wouldn’t say I studied there, more just stared at the walls waiting for something interesting to happen (it didn’t). This is possibly the thing I’m most excited for. A real challenge that will stretch me to breaking point and force me to get off my entitled butt and properly sweat it out. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be tortured than the tender shipping-container embrace of SCA.

Bring it on.

(Bonus thought: Would Marc Be Narked If I Copied His Beard? It Just Looks Like So Much Fun To Pensively Stroke When Chewing On A Tough Line Of Thought)

@funonyourones