...yeah
="Just skip this"> I'll know for sure about graduation on the 15th, which is two days before the ceremonies. I have to be in Sackville anyway, because I'm playing the church service on Sunday.
I don't want to go. I... even thinking about it right now makes me want to cry. To see all my friends walk across the stage? To miss out on all the final grad activities? Not ot mention the fact that I'm not done of school. Seriously. It's been like what, 18 years? Fuck.
Graduating with the third years. Do I even know any third years? Well, my accompanist, but she isn't probably going to graduate. Wait a whole year? Do I even care that much? To walk across a stage that I don't feel I deserve to be on? What have I done to deserve it? The bare minimum, special compensation from too nice professors?
I juat want to cry. Like...gods, how could I be so stupid? I emailed the registrar. She wasn't...that helpful, or encouraging. Which is to be expected.
You know, I used to be in the top of my class. No, seriously. I don't mean this as a past reminiscence of former glory, I used to be smart. I was third in my high school...more or less. I did fairly well in IB. Had a good GPA my first two and a half years. I just don't finish things. I've grown to hate the whole university system. Memorization and subjective marking and rehearsals that you're just in for the sake of being busy and doing the things that you feel you're supposed to accomplish, because you have to keep busy busy busy. All last year I was in rehearsal 4 days out of 5 because I felt I had to do it. I didn't even like any of what I was doing. Not even choir. I have never been in a choir that was actually, you know, good enough. Either the music is crappy, or too many people rely on me (which I cannot stand) or someone (ie my brother) tells me right before the concert that I'm not blending and I stop singingand try not to cry for the duration of said concert. I probably don't have the voice for choral singing anyway. And I think I'm good, but I didn't get into National Youth Choir. Nope. Not good enough. Didn't try hard enough. Something. Plus, choral singing is bad for the voice anyway, right vocal pedagogy professor?
I used to friggin love choir. More than anything. I could barely stand it all year. It gave me depressive episodes, sitting in choir. I kept crying, or trying not to cry. And over what? It's really difficult to sing when crying. It's not fun. Also, the sopranos were always flat. Flat, flat, flat. How hard is it to listen? Use all the friggin overtones in your voiice, stop pushing, stop coming from underneath and darken your vowels. Not that difficult.
Gah, that wasn't even the point of this. The point of this was that I used to want to go to grad school. Oh yeah. Grad school. For performance, or pedagogy or choral conducting. And now? I can't even get my undergrad. At the dining room table, I'm the only one without a degree. Even if I do get one, I'll be the only one without a masters. And then, it'll be a contest of PhDs. My dad has one. My brother is going on to get one. The only reason my mom doesn't have one is because she hated the program and then had a kid. Plus they were poor. But seriously? I can't get one lousy MUSIC degree?
I might scrape through. But I don't want to. That's how I'll get my degree? On generosity? By begging for it? Yeah, really dignified. Really shows that I mastered my program and have become an educated member of society. No. Fuck. Home to Cape Breton, 40 000 dollars in debt and nothing, NOTHING to show for it.
And more school. More. I could barely hang on to this semester. Only reason I passed anything was because of Julie pushing me through it all. That and the kindness of my teachers. Again, way to show my own merit.
Useless. And what plans do I have for the future? Friggin none. Nothing at all. I have no prospects, no skills (save the ability to cook scallop and bacon pasta, whoohoo) and no money. No boyfriend, no girlfriend, nobody's interest. Just me. Stupid, messy, can't do anything right me.
Also, like, one person is going to read this? (Thanks, by the way, Mandy. You've saved my life, more literally than you could imagine.) Way to have a livejournal, self. People I really connected with, they don't respond to me? I don't know where some of them have gone. I miss them. I'm just...not a very good friend. Never have been. I never call back, I never show up when I'm supposed to. I don't reply to things. I don't know how to relate to people. I'm unsupportive in the extreme, and I suck the joy out of everything and everybody.
This is why I've stopped liking hanging out with anyone. I went over a friend's place. A dear friend. An old friend. And I felt so out of place, so angry at myself and just sad about everything that I had to leave. Leave, leave, leave though I wanted so badly to stay. I wanted to create something with her. A zine, an idea she propsed. I left, promising to come back, knowing that I wouldn't. And you know what? She did create something. With another mutual friend. And my legacy as a bad friend who breaks her promises is immortalized in it. It says how I promised to come and didn't, right on the back page. This is how she's going to remember me, a year, five, ten from now. I haven't talked to my friends back home since I last saw them. I think Christmas? And I was so angry then, it was like I was a different person. A pod person. With a busted tire and repayment of a bad friendship in Christmas gifts.
Fuck. Just. Fuck.
The worst thing is that I know my problems are inconsquential in oh so many ways. I'm not suicidal (anymore). I have a loving family. I'm never hungry or cold or thirsty. I'm never scared nor deprived nor oppressed. Complaining makes me sick to my stomach. It's all I seem to do.
I don't want to go. I... even thinking about it right now makes me want to cry. To see all my friends walk across the stage? To miss out on all the final grad activities? Not ot mention the fact that I'm not done of school. Seriously. It's been like what, 18 years? Fuck.
Graduating with the third years. Do I even know any third years? Well, my accompanist, but she isn't probably going to graduate. Wait a whole year? Do I even care that much? To walk across a stage that I don't feel I deserve to be on? What have I done to deserve it? The bare minimum, special compensation from too nice professors?
I juat want to cry. Like...gods, how could I be so stupid? I emailed the registrar. She wasn't...that helpful, or encouraging. Which is to be expected.
You know, I used to be in the top of my class. No, seriously. I don't mean this as a past reminiscence of former glory, I used to be smart. I was third in my high school...more or less. I did fairly well in IB. Had a good GPA my first two and a half years. I just don't finish things. I've grown to hate the whole university system. Memorization and subjective marking and rehearsals that you're just in for the sake of being busy and doing the things that you feel you're supposed to accomplish, because you have to keep busy busy busy. All last year I was in rehearsal 4 days out of 5 because I felt I had to do it. I didn't even like any of what I was doing. Not even choir. I have never been in a choir that was actually, you know, good enough. Either the music is crappy, or too many people rely on me (which I cannot stand) or someone (ie my brother) tells me right before the concert that I'm not blending and I stop singingand try not to cry for the duration of said concert. I probably don't have the voice for choral singing anyway. And I think I'm good, but I didn't get into National Youth Choir. Nope. Not good enough. Didn't try hard enough. Something. Plus, choral singing is bad for the voice anyway, right vocal pedagogy professor?
I used to friggin love choir. More than anything. I could barely stand it all year. It gave me depressive episodes, sitting in choir. I kept crying, or trying not to cry. And over what? It's really difficult to sing when crying. It's not fun. Also, the sopranos were always flat. Flat, flat, flat. How hard is it to listen? Use all the friggin overtones in your voiice, stop pushing, stop coming from underneath and darken your vowels. Not that difficult.
Gah, that wasn't even the point of this. The point of this was that I used to want to go to grad school. Oh yeah. Grad school. For performance, or pedagogy or choral conducting. And now? I can't even get my undergrad. At the dining room table, I'm the only one without a degree. Even if I do get one, I'll be the only one without a masters. And then, it'll be a contest of PhDs. My dad has one. My brother is going on to get one. The only reason my mom doesn't have one is because she hated the program and then had a kid. Plus they were poor. But seriously? I can't get one lousy MUSIC degree?
I might scrape through. But I don't want to. That's how I'll get my degree? On generosity? By begging for it? Yeah, really dignified. Really shows that I mastered my program and have become an educated member of society. No. Fuck. Home to Cape Breton, 40 000 dollars in debt and nothing, NOTHING to show for it.
And more school. More. I could barely hang on to this semester. Only reason I passed anything was because of Julie pushing me through it all. That and the kindness of my teachers. Again, way to show my own merit.
Useless. And what plans do I have for the future? Friggin none. Nothing at all. I have no prospects, no skills (save the ability to cook scallop and bacon pasta, whoohoo) and no money. No boyfriend, no girlfriend, nobody's interest. Just me. Stupid, messy, can't do anything right me.
Also, like, one person is going to read this? (Thanks, by the way, Mandy. You've saved my life, more literally than you could imagine.) Way to have a livejournal, self. People I really connected with, they don't respond to me? I don't know where some of them have gone. I miss them. I'm just...not a very good friend. Never have been. I never call back, I never show up when I'm supposed to. I don't reply to things. I don't know how to relate to people. I'm unsupportive in the extreme, and I suck the joy out of everything and everybody.
This is why I've stopped liking hanging out with anyone. I went over a friend's place. A dear friend. An old friend. And I felt so out of place, so angry at myself and just sad about everything that I had to leave. Leave, leave, leave though I wanted so badly to stay. I wanted to create something with her. A zine, an idea she propsed. I left, promising to come back, knowing that I wouldn't. And you know what? She did create something. With another mutual friend. And my legacy as a bad friend who breaks her promises is immortalized in it. It says how I promised to come and didn't, right on the back page. This is how she's going to remember me, a year, five, ten from now. I haven't talked to my friends back home since I last saw them. I think Christmas? And I was so angry then, it was like I was a different person. A pod person. With a busted tire and repayment of a bad friendship in Christmas gifts.
Fuck. Just. Fuck.
The worst thing is that I know my problems are inconsquential in oh so many ways. I'm not suicidal (anymore). I have a loving family. I'm never hungry or cold or thirsty. I'm never scared nor deprived nor oppressed. Complaining makes me sick to my stomach. It's all I seem to do.