“The beginning of the end happened at my freshman year LogJam,” former Puget Sound student Jeremy Jones said. Like many Puget Sound students, Jones put his name down on 90 percent of the club email lists. But unlike most students, Jones committed to each club. “I was the president of every fraternity, the sweetheart of every sorority, the secretary to every knitting union, the gardener for every eco group and the hero of every acting coalition.”
Not only did Jones quite literally have a toe dipped in every campus water –– he was part of the “toe in every campus water” club –– he took a full course load and two activity credits. “I was performing CPR and swimming for fitness. I was studying neuroscience and some of the earlier Greek vases –– but mostly I was going bezerk,” Jones said. After Jones’ first year, he experienced the greatest burnout of his life.
“I bit off more than I could chew. I filled my plate too full. The people told me to have a bigger mouth; to craft a bigger plate –– I was part of the ceramics club –– but I just couldn’t do it,” Jones said. “The people told me to grow more toes to dip into more waters, and to fatten up so that I could be spread less thin,” Jones said. “I told them I was juggling too much and they told me to grow more arms and show up to juggling club, so I did.”
On Jones’ first day at Juggling Club, he realized that he had found his home base. “Everything was so easy, especially with the extra arm I’d grown because of neoliberal demand,” Jones said. “All I had to do was keep my eye on the ball and my third arm moving at about seven miles per hour and I was golden.”
Jones felt more connected and in tune than ever at juggling club, and wanted to abandon his other 900 obligations (Jones was spending eight hours every weekend managing the color coordination of his Google calendar). Jones decided to leave the University and pursue juggling as a career. “Leaving was initially a great choice. When I stepped out of my Trimble suite with only my dignity and 26 oranges –– for juggling –– I felt more liberated than ever. But then things took a turn.”
Jones spent his first few weeks as a professional juggler working in some underground juggling communities. “The venues were small, but my love of juggling was large,” Jones said. As Jones rose up in the world of juggling, he began to overcommit to the sport. Jones began taking the overnight juggling shifts and teaching classes on juggling.
“I accidentally opened the notorious ‘College of Juggling.’ And that’s when Cirque du Soleil recruited me,” Jones said. Jones, overcommitter and explorer of the world that he is, decided he would run both the College of Juggling and do Cirque du Soleil. “This is when juggling became to much to juggle,” Jones said.
After two years of juggling the world of juggling, Jones was burnt out. “For the eightieth time in my life someone told me that I’d filled my plate too full. So, I decided to finally take up the suggestion to make big ceramic plates,” Jones said. You can currently find him at his new ceramics studio. “Next week I’m leading my first classes. I hear world-renowned potter Harry Potter might be in attendance.”
