Clubs Week

I love Clubs Week. It’s one of my favourite things about the start of the school year. I always make a point of walking by all the booths and talking to the people behind them. That’s what makes Clubs Week so cool to me, getting to talk to people about the things they are passionate about. And as much as I enjoy these conversations, they can become a bit problematic. After talking for a few minutes with a classmate about, say, his love of paintball, I feel inclined to share his enthusiasm. Though I’m not sure that I want to place myself in a playing field that allows people to take shots at me while I run away wearing camo pants or something ridiculous like that, I nearly joined Mustang Paintball. As a result of my need to pay full respect to the interests of the various club executives, I’ve joined nine different clubs in three years of university. These clubs range from the Western Snowboard Federation to Theatre Western to the Estonian Society. (No, I am not Estonian.) I usually have a very good reason for joining any of the clubs I’ve joined. The reasons are so good, I’ve justified joining every club I’ve ever been in. “I would like to volunteer with more charities*!” “I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf!” “I’d love to pretend I’m Estonian!”

My real issue when it comes to joining clubs is that while I’m always enthusiastic about whatever I’m joining, I usually fail to attend a single meeting or event. I always read the emails I receive — what kind of club member would I be if I didn’t? — but I never intend to go to any of the events the emails describe. It seems that I enjoy imagining my future with a club more than I actually like being a part of a club. My position as a non-participating club member is one that I am certainly not alone in occupying. What makes my passive involvement even more problematic is that to an outsider, I appear to be an active club memeber. I wear the t-shirts, make conversation with the executives, and still fail to make an appearance at the annual general meeting. I’ve had a WSF sticker on my laptop since I started my undergrad, when I’m not even sure that I could make it down the bunny hill on a snowboard. Perhaps I join clubs because each imagined future presents an opportunity to reinvent myself, as an environmentalist, a pre-law student or an Italian. (Seriously, the people were so friendly, I almost joined the Italian club a few years ago.) But persona can only go so far, before claiming to be a snowboarder leads me to pretend I’m in another faculty. Come to think of it, I showed up at a Social Science faculty event just last night. Evidently I need to put a stop to this before it goes too far. I’ve already had a few people ask me what kind of Engineering I’m studying. It’s time for me to come clean.

I am not a surfer or snowboarder, in spite of what the t-shirts I’m wearing suggest. I have not acted since I was thirteen, even though I had a solo in the school musical. I’m not Estonian, Italian, or even all that Irish. And while I try really hard to recycle, I’m not well versed when it comes to conversations on climate change. I’m Courtney, and though you will enjoy talking to me about your club, you do not want me in your club. I will bring nothing to your club other than my student number and email address.

With those confessions, I leave my days of joining clubs behind me, and I invite others to explore the Clubs Week booths in my place.

Wait, are those perogies I see at the Polish Club table?

Song of the Day: Clubland by Elvis Costello

*Charities must remain unnamed, so my affiliation does not tarnish the reputation of any of the wonderful organizations I’ve failed to contribute to.