A College Update
M O T H E R F U C K E R.
I just had a whole entry typed out and it was deleted and I swear to God, I almost cried.
Well, this is my first update in a long time.
I am a college nazi. No, that's not a good thing. It means I constantly, unceasingly, ferociously strive for perfection with all of my being. I spent every spare second doing homework. I often forget/don't have time to eat. I hardly ever leave my room. I am an art major, therefore I am surrounded by other art majors, and lemme tell you, they do a great job living up to the stereotypes. They're mostly potheads. All they talk about it pot, they deal pot, they smoke pot, they eat, breathe, and sleep pot. Pot pot pot, every hour of every day. Otherwise intelligent kids who, if pot didn't dictate their lives, might have something intelligible to say. Kids who talk about "fighting the man," and whatnot. I have been here only a few months and already I am so so sick of that foolish all-consuming cycle that the people here seem to be getting sucked into of "Derrr, let's drink ourselves into a stupor!" Drink yourselves into a stupor? Brilliant! You haven't done that since early this morning! And that's what it is. A cycle. A cycle that sucks you in. They think they're exercising their independence by drinking or smoking everything in sight, but no, it is a cycle. I am a hermit. Not many people know me. I love my suitemates and I love my pothead art friends, and despite my seclusive behavior and squeaky-clean facade, they love me too and think I'm cool in my own right. Because despite the fact that I'm "the good one," "the one that doesn't drink," I don't lecture them or jump down their throats about what they do. They're adults, they're their own bosses. I won't lecture them if they won't lecture me. Though, one of them told me I NEED pot because I'm so high-strung. Thanks, pal, I'll stick to yoga. I wish I had time for yoga...
I love my classes, I love my professors, I love the art department, and I'm doing my best to make a name for myself and make myself stand out. I was one of two nominees for the Nazarian scholarship for outstanding freshmen, but, story of my life, they decided to go with the other candidate. Damn. $15,000 down the drain. So fucking close. Oh well. My art professors have discussed with me which programs would be best for me in art Ed. Bill, my Drawing I professor, told me he'd like to see someone with actual talent become an art educator, so I should definitely pursue that. The art kids are pretty much the scum of the earth to the other majors. "Oh, art is easy. Art is for the druggies. Art is useless." Yeah, well, kiss my ass. It's hard fucking work. Bitchcake. I was somewhat ashamed of my school at first, but it has become home. I actually miss it on the weekends, when I have to come home to work. But I also greatly appreciate Burrillville, that slightly enigmatic corner of Rhode Island I'm always asked about. Seriously, they all think it's like the movie "Deliverance." One of them asked me, "What does one do in Burrillville? Aren't there, like, mad trees?"
...
Yes. There are mad trees. And we churn butter and bring in the harvest in Burrillville, what else? I think we may be getting some of that newfangled rock 'n' roll music in from the big city, soon. *big toothless grin*
Crandon, an art friend, finds it funny that I listen to bands that advocate or at least fuel themselves with drugs when I myself do not do drugs. I told him that good music is good music, no matter what it is about. A good song could be about murdering someone, doesn't mean I'm gonna go kill people.
Anyways, that's college so far. I really don't mean to portray my school or the people in it in a really negative light, because most of them are good people and it is a good school. Mrs. Drouin went there and she's brilliant. So, there ya go. Since I came here, I am 7 pounds lighter, even more eccentric and stressed about life, worried about my friends and boyfriend, and missing them greatly. Worried about my future, worried about my choices, worried about my family. But I have a plan, I know my place here, I have an iron will and probably won't be sucked into activities I know aren't for me because I know who I am and what I do and do not like to do. So, guys, I will definitely see you by Christmas vacation and hopefully before. Over and out.
I just had a whole entry typed out and it was deleted and I swear to God, I almost cried.
Well, this is my first update in a long time.
I am a college nazi. No, that's not a good thing. It means I constantly, unceasingly, ferociously strive for perfection with all of my being. I spent every spare second doing homework. I often forget/don't have time to eat. I hardly ever leave my room. I am an art major, therefore I am surrounded by other art majors, and lemme tell you, they do a great job living up to the stereotypes. They're mostly potheads. All they talk about it pot, they deal pot, they smoke pot, they eat, breathe, and sleep pot. Pot pot pot, every hour of every day. Otherwise intelligent kids who, if pot didn't dictate their lives, might have something intelligible to say. Kids who talk about "fighting the man," and whatnot. I have been here only a few months and already I am so so sick of that foolish all-consuming cycle that the people here seem to be getting sucked into of "Derrr, let's drink ourselves into a stupor!" Drink yourselves into a stupor? Brilliant! You haven't done that since early this morning! And that's what it is. A cycle. A cycle that sucks you in. They think they're exercising their independence by drinking or smoking everything in sight, but no, it is a cycle. I am a hermit. Not many people know me. I love my suitemates and I love my pothead art friends, and despite my seclusive behavior and squeaky-clean facade, they love me too and think I'm cool in my own right. Because despite the fact that I'm "the good one," "the one that doesn't drink," I don't lecture them or jump down their throats about what they do. They're adults, they're their own bosses. I won't lecture them if they won't lecture me. Though, one of them told me I NEED pot because I'm so high-strung. Thanks, pal, I'll stick to yoga. I wish I had time for yoga...
I love my classes, I love my professors, I love the art department, and I'm doing my best to make a name for myself and make myself stand out. I was one of two nominees for the Nazarian scholarship for outstanding freshmen, but, story of my life, they decided to go with the other candidate. Damn. $15,000 down the drain. So fucking close. Oh well. My art professors have discussed with me which programs would be best for me in art Ed. Bill, my Drawing I professor, told me he'd like to see someone with actual talent become an art educator, so I should definitely pursue that. The art kids are pretty much the scum of the earth to the other majors. "Oh, art is easy. Art is for the druggies. Art is useless." Yeah, well, kiss my ass. It's hard fucking work. Bitchcake. I was somewhat ashamed of my school at first, but it has become home. I actually miss it on the weekends, when I have to come home to work. But I also greatly appreciate Burrillville, that slightly enigmatic corner of Rhode Island I'm always asked about. Seriously, they all think it's like the movie "Deliverance." One of them asked me, "What does one do in Burrillville? Aren't there, like, mad trees?"
...
Yes. There are mad trees. And we churn butter and bring in the harvest in Burrillville, what else? I think we may be getting some of that newfangled rock 'n' roll music in from the big city, soon. *big toothless grin*
Crandon, an art friend, finds it funny that I listen to bands that advocate or at least fuel themselves with drugs when I myself do not do drugs. I told him that good music is good music, no matter what it is about. A good song could be about murdering someone, doesn't mean I'm gonna go kill people.
Anyways, that's college so far. I really don't mean to portray my school or the people in it in a really negative light, because most of them are good people and it is a good school. Mrs. Drouin went there and she's brilliant. So, there ya go. Since I came here, I am 7 pounds lighter, even more eccentric and stressed about life, worried about my friends and boyfriend, and missing them greatly. Worried about my future, worried about my choices, worried about my family. But I have a plan, I know my place here, I have an iron will and probably won't be sucked into activities I know aren't for me because I know who I am and what I do and do not like to do. So, guys, I will definitely see you by Christmas vacation and hopefully before. Over and out.