Everywhere but Where It Mattered

After failing the first year, I said, "OK, more focus." During the first semester, I didn't need to be on the phone with my boyfriend, because we were now living together. I quit the nanny job to find an internship in advertising, since the new curriculum required an unpaid internship. I found the internship easily, but I hadn't realized I'd have to work Monday to Friday, 9 a.m. to 6 p.m., from the office, while studying algebra, accounting, and other subjects I wasn't sure would ever serve me in my future advertising career. On top of that, with the commute there and back, I was away from home for more than ten hours a day, and I still had homework to do: twelve subjects divided into four groups, each with at least six assignments, half of which were supposed to be done with someone else. Let's recap for a second. I was an unpaid intern (sorry—$100 a month, just enough to cover the commute), and my tasks were mainly presentations and reports on advertising impact. Then I was a girlfriend—I mean a wife, because I had to cook, clean, and take care of my new relationship with my husband-to-be (he didn't know yet that I'd be his wife, but I already knew; that's another story). Then studying, going out, meeting my friends, calling my friends, being on Facebook posting my life abroad and being part of the drama, organizing an engagement announcement, being there for my BFF, listening to her story without me in the same country, talking to my cousin about her driver's license, joking with my sister about our childhood, planning for the sales, planning vacations with my girls. I had too much on my plate. My internship was really interesting and I was so into it, but I kept making mistakes because I was always on my phone while working. My internship tutor gave me good insights and comments on my work, but off the record, he told me I was immature and unfocused, and that I had to stop spending my energy on useless things. I was in the adult world now; I needed to choose clearly where to invest my energy. It was worth it, professionally and personally. My man was starting to see me as superficial. He'd had enough of me wanting to talk about the latest drama I'd heard while he was working to pay the bills and the rent. Despite my boyfriend's advice and my tutor's, I failed the 2nd year—closer this time than the first. This time, I didn't look for excuses. I decided to spend the summer preparing for the fall. The third try would be my last, or I'd drop out.