Thanks to those of you who've been reading and enjoying this blog. I think the reason I write is the same reason I play music, dance, make cave art ect. Because I can. Because it's cool to extend your mind onto your environment. Posterity is also cool. Creating art or working out thoughts is the moment when the fluid energy of the mind is transformed into physical reality, even if it's tiny bites of information across a page. It is fascinating to find out how minds work. We're addicted to watching lives of fictional characters everyday. We strive to find out how they deal with various situations and each other. It's cool going back over old journals and blogs to see how I've grown. We often walk into the same traps of bad habits or patterns, to experience the same hangover or stress filled term paper. As long as the overall picture is improving, those negative behaviours are tolerable, but can sour the positive outcomes in a big way. I've been experiences mild emotional distress and on the same repetitive note, school is at the root. This blog is therapeutic because I can honest about my dysfunctional behaviour. This negative cycle has been going on since I've stepped foot in the establishment called "school".
Since day one I've put off, neglected, discarded the responsibilities associated with getting good grades. Basically I don't need anyone telling me that I'm smart, I know that already. However, it was my parents duty, however futile, to instil fundamental work habits into my psyche. This caused a tension in my life like no other. Year after year, I'd wouldn't do the big projects, then lie to both my teachers and parents about how I'd either done the work or that none was assigned. A foreboding sense of dread crept into my belly as the days wore on. Eventually my parents would stumble across various late assignments. As they fingered the dreaded mess of papers overflowing from my binders or bags, the knot in my stomach would clench. They would yell, I would cry, they'd help me with the work then we'd repeat the whole process every few months.
I didn't actually get accepted to university when I first applied. I graduated from high school on time, then did a victory lap to "boost my grades". That last semester of highs school I feel in love with a girl that I would be with for three years. I also branched out by joining the choir and the swim team. The funny thing was that most of my grades were still in the low sixties. I got rejected from Carleton University, aka "last chance U". My mother would have none of it though. Suddenly pamphlets for the "enriched support program", started popping up in my living room. Through my mother's due vigilance, I hopped through the right hoops and ended up in the equivalent of the special Ed class in university. It meant that I couldn't take a full class load and that there were extra opportunities available to me. The "first year seminar" I found infuriating. There was a lot of hand holding. I skipped many classes, did the bare minimum of work and ended passed the class, somehow. That's basically been my style since. A few english classes and my music performance class have been the exception to that model of mediocracy.
Not that I was an all around bad student, when It comes to classes, I usually kick ass. I've had a couple of brilliant professors, who've I've become decent friends with and poor profs, whom I've shamed publicly. In environments of progressive or at least learned thought, I'm always building, furthering and challenging the conversation. I've never had a problem with tossing out an idea while being able to back it up with various points from the book. So why is it like pulling teeth to write an essay? I think it's because the purpose of School work is usually not to inspire, but to prove that one can create a piece of work that fits into the appropriate format and guidelines. It's a contrived effort to bring forth good grades. If a paper is riddled with spelling, grammar and formatting errors, the brilliance of the ideas put across are trivialized. A structurally sound paper can say sweet f*#$ all still get an proportionally high grade. The counter argument would state that one who can formulate a concept in a more presentable manner has the advantage over a poorly constructed thought. My personal experience is that passion is necessary for the constructive materialization of scholarly expression. That last sentence was perhaps denser then it needed to be. But after four years of university, most examples of my writing were poorly expressed. It was the act of blogging, of creating sentences and paragraphs that were important to me, that improved my skills.
I'm ages behind on my reading and writing for the two classes I have tomorrow morning, but I'm getting such a kick out of writing this blog, I just can't stop.
I need to speak to my teachers one on one, and soon. If I don't I'll just keep messing every thing up. Failing these two classes would be a terrible waste of money and time, but time to a lesser extent. I've enjoyed the classes and have learned a fair amount. But if I only wanted to learn and not had this society desire to prove to others that I've learned, I would have simply gone to all the classes and not paid tuition. But my parents saved for years so that I could get a degree...
Alright, I think that's it for now. It's 2 11 Am, and apparently theres a meteor shower outside. I checked a few moments ago and saw nothing. Light pollution is a bitch.
This blog is un edited. School starts at ten, maybe I'll do it then.