A different start

Disclaimer: This is basically a Pity-Party-Post. Save yourself from my mere journaling and read some cool stuff on Quora.

Well … I didn’t get a chance to write about Alaska a whole lot. Pity. I really wanted to. Oh well. I’m back up in the UP right now. Just started my third semester here. So far so … good? … I wish I could say that more confidently but I can’t. This semester has had a rather abnormal start from all other semester in my college educational career. Due to the combinations of poor planning skills and a crunched time frame, things were not set up to run as smoothly as they should have. I was unable to set up residency before my arrival and have been relying on my sister’s good graces for shelter. I was also unable to find a decent job this semester and so decided to accept my invitation to my previous sub-par job. Some of my friends are gone. The classes I am taking appear to be of a greater challenge as well. Basically …. I’ve got myself in a mess. A big tricky mess.

Granted, I’m sure out there probably even in this city there are many people who have it worse than I do. I tend to complain more than I believe I have the right to. But still, all I can think about right now is how badly I want out. This sucks. I’m basically homeless, without a stable decent job, and school is kicking my … well … my gluts! It doesn’t help that school was also doing that less than two weeks before now in Calc 2.

I believe I wrote a brief post about that a while back. If I didn’t, I’ll summarize. I chose to take an accelerated Calculus 2 course during the summer which had a class every day of the week for two and a half hours for five weeks straight. Yes, it sucked. It really really sucked. Long story short, this class took away most of my summer while upsetting the majority of my family which led to someone being kicked out which festered some resentment towards my education. In the past, I have never been deeply motivated by school. Good grades are great, but I have never valued them beyond the avoidance of the embarrassing experience of bad grades. A pat on the back doesn’t feel that different to most of the 4.0’s I have received. (I’ve probably written about that in the past as well) My point is …. well … that class really burned me out.

Although I did indeed pass the class, I didn’t do it with flying colors. I consider what I received as a bad grade. (Some say passing is good, but I set my standards high so I don’t completely succumb to my lack of 4.0 motivation) Because I gave so much and came out feeling poorly, that class left a few wounds that are still a bit tender to touch. It’s one thing to spend a school years away and get to see your parents periodically on breaks and the start of the summer. However, seeing them grow distant from you because of a class you chose to take, that’s a pretty painful thing to swallow. I had to go up north feeling that these wounds I feel are still mutual between those closest to me. My mother and father expressed how much they missed me. Saying goodbye was not easy when I came up north. My eldest brother who has always been the understanding and encouraging one in my life twice spoke the sly remarks of a forgotten brother who wanted to see that he still mattered.

So in a nutshell, that class has left me pretty resentful towards school in general. I usually never struggled to get excited to learn new things and meet new instructors. This semester, however, has come with it’s share of heavy baggage. I truly miss my family. I regret having treated them like shit. They mean more to me than this stupid place. I will probably go to my grave saying that I do not belong in school. I am a laborer. My heart lies with the tasks and duties of a smaller group. I wonder how often a doctor smiles in comparison to a garbage man.  The world is what you make of it, not what it makes of you. …. That’s enough. I’ll dream more about simpler careers in the morning. For now, I better get to sleep, I have to be up and ready for class in five hours. ……

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What a wonderful weekend

      Well, I got to come home and it’s been awesome. After the seemingly endless 8 hour drive from upstate, I finally arrived at my humble home. After hanging out with the family members that were there and snuggling with the yorkies that I missed so much, I began to prepare myself for the arrival of my girlfriend who had no idea I was coming home. I had begun planning on making the trip over a month in advance, I just never thought the day would actually get here. My girlfriend was running late to the “movie night” at my family’s house. So we had dinner while we waited. After what felt like ages to me, (but was probably only a little while) she finally arrived. I patently waited quietly in the pantry with the flowers while she was greeted normally and placed the pie she brought on the kitchen counter. Barely containing my excitement, I peeked out the sliver of a crack in the slightly open door and listened to the beautiful voice I had not heard this clearly in 47 days. Finally, my mother said the words I had been waiting for. “Katrina, could you grab the plates out of the pantry? I think they’re on the second shelf.”  I stood their frozen, not knowing what to expect. She opened the door abruptly headed for the second shelf from the bottom. With puzzled and concerned look on her face, I watched as her eyes slowly climb the shape of my dark and mysterious silhouette. The realization of who she was looking at struck her so hard, I thought she might fall backwards. With one hand over her mouth and the other finding the stool that was supposedly nearby she slowly stepped back and eased onto her seat. I emerged from the pantry shivering with excitement. I had finally seen the expression I had been dreaming about since I first day I fantasized the scene. Without baring it any longer, I embraced her. I can’t remember the last time a hug felt that good.
     A lot of other things have happened this weekend including two thanksgiving dinners. I wish I could write more about them tonight but I’m beginning to get tired and I need to be up to go to class with Katrina. I’m hoping to see my favorite math instructor I had when I was attending the local college. It’ll be so nice to see her.
Goodnight.