i know a thing about contrition because i got enough to spare
I hate high school. Really, I do. Unfortunately--or perhaps fortunately, if you're my father and feel such things build character--I'm stuck for another year, a year which may arguably be one of the most important in my academic career. This is the year I must knuckle under for the sake of a better SAT score and grade point average, as well as scrounge up what little team spirit and philanthropic sympathies I possess in order to "round out" my student resume. Not because my parents are pressing me, but because I do not--and again I say DO NOT--want to wind up in some middling little university nestled cozily between Athens and Dahlonega. [Is that even how you spell it? Screw it, I'm past caring.] I have had enough average, half-assed education for a life time. I don't want a grown-up continuation of my previous experiences in this paragon of an academic system. I want to go to a school where people give a crap about learning in every sense of the word. And I'm not saying that I expect the students to piss enlightenment or the campus to be an orchard for trees of knowledge, but damn it, I want to be around people who love words as much as I do and who get me when I say that in the end, all great stories are love stories. I want to feel like I'm not on the fringe of everything for once, and I want to be in a place where my thoughts can serve as more than an escape from action.
I want. A goddamn. Revelation.
And that's really sad in a way, considering I don't even know what I want to major in or do with my life. I can see the interview now:
"So how do you think our school can benefit you? What programs are you intersted in?"
"Well, I'm still undecided, really. I'll most likely wind up getting an English or Creative Writing degree."
"Oh? Do you want to be a teacher?"
"God, no, have you seen some of those kids? Of course you have. You should understand, then; forget I asked."
"A journalist, then? A freelance writer?"
"More of an author, I was thinking. My superego thinks I want to write the next great novel, but really it's just an excuse to write slash fiction for a living."
"..."
"My back-up plan is to work at Marvel comics. Or else just backpack around Japan."
"...Don't wait for our call."
Which would be somewhat true and mostly hilarious, but not contributive to my having a life.
First, though, I have to survive high school.
Christ on a fucking bicycle.