I realize a lot of my negativity is streaming from one thing-- this particular semester is driving me crazy. I'm taking two sciences (I don't want to use the term "hate", but I'm not very good at science and don't particularly care for it.) an english class I honestly feel like I'm too good to be in, basically a repeat of high school speech and two Saturday labs for said sciences.
The English arrogance? It needs to stop. I'm in a nut up or shut up situation-- yeah? You're so ~awesome~ at English, Sinclair? Why don't you have an A? Work on getting an A. Don't chalk it up to the class being too easy, because that frankly sounds ridiculous. Admitedly, the "I did poorly because I was bored." excuse works for a while, but I'm paying to be here and I can force myself through an hour and a half of review twice a week. Plus Miranda showed me a paper writing trick I'm kind of excited to use. Even if in some alterreality I am "too good" for the class? Who cares. Learn something in patience, then.
I'm quickly learning that science is much like a needy little kid; even if I'm no where near a test I need to study. Sciences are such a world apart from what I'm used to, but I'm quickly learning diligence if definitely a key.
Off to geology!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
A Truth.
Four weeks into a magical world of mediocrity the Treasure Valley likes to call "College of Western Idaho", aka the community college I am currently (begrudgingly) attending.
I'm halfway between a "FUCK THIS PLACE" and "Well. . . this is alright!" statement when talking about my new institution.
The Financial Aid department can suck a ring of throbbing anus. You don't have mile long lines outside of your office at 9am anymore-- why aren't you processing my paperwork? We're almost a month in and I still don't have my financial aid. I don't have my books.
On that note, I think my English professor thinks I'm an asshole. . . unfortunately, I feel a little entitled to being a bit cocky in an English class, as that is my major, and at good ol' College of Idaho I was taking 300 level literature classes. . . granted, I was pulling C's in them, but that's not the point. (Yes it is) She's basically trying to teach a 102 composition class and I'm in the back, trying to make it as complicated as possible because. . . that's what I do.
The drive is shorter, the people are far less intimidating, and I feel far less inadequate about taking two years off between high school and college. A good portion of my classmates are well over 25. This makes my age old 21 year old self feel much, much better.
And of course, being myself, I have to look at everyone, pick out their flaws and decide if they're better than me or not. If they are? I need to pick apart why or become better in that sense. It's much like playing tetris on facebook, where you can see the next persons score.
I feel like, at this point, the most important thing is to have a plan. Unfortunately, that is stressing me out and not actually working. . . just because I think it's important, it's really goddamned not. I keep freaking out about two semesters from now, two years from now. . . where I'm going to grad school. What I'm doing with my life. When I have a have a full time job, how much of my free time am I going to dedicate to writing? and art? How long am I going to wait before trying to get published?
I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm freaking out. I should probably stop writing this because it's giving me the jitters. So long and good night.
I'm halfway between a "FUCK THIS PLACE" and "Well. . . this is alright!" statement when talking about my new institution.
The Financial Aid department can suck a ring of throbbing anus. You don't have mile long lines outside of your office at 9am anymore-- why aren't you processing my paperwork? We're almost a month in and I still don't have my financial aid. I don't have my books.
On that note, I think my English professor thinks I'm an asshole. . . unfortunately, I feel a little entitled to being a bit cocky in an English class, as that is my major, and at good ol' College of Idaho I was taking 300 level literature classes. . . granted, I was pulling C's in them, but that's not the point. (Yes it is) She's basically trying to teach a 102 composition class and I'm in the back, trying to make it as complicated as possible because. . . that's what I do.
The drive is shorter, the people are far less intimidating, and I feel far less inadequate about taking two years off between high school and college. A good portion of my classmates are well over 25. This makes my age old 21 year old self feel much, much better.
And of course, being myself, I have to look at everyone, pick out their flaws and decide if they're better than me or not. If they are? I need to pick apart why or become better in that sense. It's much like playing tetris on facebook, where you can see the next persons score.
I feel like, at this point, the most important thing is to have a plan. Unfortunately, that is stressing me out and not actually working. . . just because I think it's important, it's really goddamned not. I keep freaking out about two semesters from now, two years from now. . . where I'm going to grad school. What I'm doing with my life. When I have a have a full time job, how much of my free time am I going to dedicate to writing? and art? How long am I going to wait before trying to get published?
I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm freaking out. I should probably stop writing this because it's giving me the jitters. So long and good night.
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