Reader. Writer. Romantic.

Posts tagged ‘Rant’

Should I go Today

I’m tired.  Just tired.  Of everything.  Of everyone.  What’s the point anymore?  I work so hard, but for what?  Why?  I kill myself everyday to get a job, to be the top of my class, to be someone that my parents can be proud of.  Why?  What’s the point?  Why do we have to create a purpose in life?  Why can’t we just survive and take each day as it comes?  Why do we put so much emphasis on success, ambition?  I look back and I wonder if it’s worth it.

I’ve accomplished so much, but feel like I’m worthless.  Nothing I do is good enough.  I’m not good enough for anyone.  I don’t deserve to be happy.  I’m just a burden on everyone around and that everything anyone says is a lie.  I’ve lost all trust in people and maybe it’s due to the profession I’ve chosen to go into, but all my life, people have proven they don’t deserve my trust.  People became my friends not because they liked me for who I was, but for what I could do for them.  Sure, I’m not the smartest person by any stretch of the imagination, but I do pretty well for myself.  And because of that I never knew if people were only here to use me or actually wanted to be my friend.  I’ve seen so many friends over the years drift out my life because our friendship was one of convenience.  I could help them academically and that was all I was good for.  I’m not saying every friend I ever made was like that, for I do have some friends in my life who I can see are genuinely there for more than just what I can do to help them succeed.  And I don’t appreciate all those in my life who are there who are there just to see me fail.  I’m not perfect.  No one is, so stop putting me on that pedestal because I will fall.  Stop watching me as the ideal of perfection and then laughing at me, talking behind back when I fail.  I may not make as many mistakes because I’m meticulous.  I put so much time and effort into maintaining this facade.  Time and effort you never see, so you assume it comes naturally.  I’m not naturally intelligent.  It’s the habits I’ve developed over the years.  I’ve learned how to maximize the way I retain and learn things.  I make it look easy, but it’s not easy.  It never has been and never will be.  And while you all hate me when I say I only got a 90%, I honestly mean it.  I beat myself up, repeating to myself how stupid I am because I couldn’t remember the information that could have gotten me that 10% because I did know it and I know I should’ve done better.  Anything you can say to me, I have thought it a hundred times and thought up worse things.  So, yeah, I am insecure when you say these things to me because I already know I’m not perfect, but when you decide you’re going highlight it, make fun of me for it, and tell everyone so that they know how futile all my attempts at perfection are, I’m hurt by it.  I brush it off because people have told me I’m too sensitive, too emotional, I cry too much.  Even strong people cry.  We spend so much time pretending everything is ok.  We hold everything inside so that our facade doesn’t crack and show who we truly are inside.  We’re a mess, just like you, but we hide it, but sometimes when something incredibly stressful happens like a break up, we can’t hold it back anymore.  Like a dam, the pressure is to great to hold back.

I say so much, but ultimately, the words fail me.  I don’t have the eloquence I normally do.  If I were to die today, there would be no note.  I would just do it.  I would leave the world wondering why I did what I did.  I can see some people in my life clearly.  My dad.  Calling me an idiot for throwing my life away.  My classmate. “He is not worth dying for.  You would have gotten over him.”  If you have ever heard the song “The End of the World,” you’d understand how I’m feeling right now.  Because it is the end of my world.  He was and still is my world.  When I thought about break ups, I always thought I’d break up with someone because I stopped loving them.  I still love him.  And I can’t bear to let him go.  But in my heart I can’t help but think that its something I’ve done.  I am crazy; I’ll admit that much.  Maybe something I had done was the last straw for him and he says it’s not me, but a part of me says, yes it is.  And a part of me, a tiny part of me says that he’s not as good of a person as he appears to be.  He said he would never cheat on me, that he believes that communication and trust are the most important things in the relationship, but near the end I felt like he just stopped loving me.  That he started loving someone else.  In the beginning I could just go into his phone and he wouldn’t even react.  Now he asks me what I’m doing and why I’m so nosy and snooping all the time.  He says he’s not hiding anything, but they’re just words.  I don’t believe them anymore.

I don’t fail often.  I want everything to work out.  I want this to work out.  Sure we didn’t technically break up, but I want to come back from this break, I want to prove to those who were happy that we weren’t together anymore that we were meant to be together.  I want us to work because I’ve never met anyone who understands me as much as he does.  We work so well together and the people I’ve talked to thought we were really good together.  I LOVE HIM! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH IT HURTS! I don’t know how else to say it.  I don’t want it to end.  I want to make this work.  But maybe I’ve scared him off.  Maybe I don’t deserve anyone.

I’m just so tired of putting in so much effort and yielding nothing from it.  I’m tired of giving away parts  of me to watch people throw it away.  I’m tired of fighting a battle I don’t care about anymore.  I’m tired of having my heart ripped out and told to just suck it up and get over it.  I just want the pain to go away.  I want to go to sleep and never wake up.  No one really cares about me anyways.  All I’ve ever been is a burden.

You Better Make Damn Sure

I’ve always known that I should never make someone as a priority when all I am to them is an option. It really hurts me because you said that honesty and loyalty are the most important things to you. And as much as I want to believe that, I know that can’t be true. Because there is no one in the world who is so busy that they won’t make time for those they love, there is no one in the world who won’t make time to spend with friends. And sure it’s easy to say that I should cut him out of my life, to choose to let him go, life is hardly ever so clear cut, life is hardly ever so easy.

A part of me loves the things that he is, the things that he does, and the man that he’s grown into. A part of me knows that I will keep loving him even when the walls come crumbling down around me with no hope of escape. I would die and give my life so that he could live, so that he could be happy and what crushes me most is that I’m learning that he’s not the kind of man who would do the same.

You can lie to me and maybe I’m naive for believing you, but you better be damn sure I never find out what you’ve done. I will always believe in the best in people even when I deal with the worst of them on a daily basis. I refuse to let this world harden me. For though I appear tough and independent, though I appear to be able to hold my own and be happy and smile and joke, inside, I am constantly falling apart, I am constantly giving up my own happiness to see you smile.

Sure I didn’t have the worst childhood in the world, but I didn’t have the best. So many things were kept from me and I didn’t learn of love until too late. Each time I’ve fallen in love, I’ve heard the words “that’s nice” or even a callous laugh. I have never been told that I’m beautiful or have done a good job. All I know is that which I cannot do, that I’m useless and good for nothing. And though I prove myself time and time again, capable of such great things, with a self-esteem so low, with a self worth that is non-existent, I cannot survive for much longer. Everyday I can feel a bit of my sanity slipping away. I can pretend that I’m happy and that I’m confident, but the truth is, is that I’m not all that.  I can pretend so well that sometimes I fool myself into thinking that I’m alright, when in actuality I am not. Maybe I can fool the world around me, but I know the demons that lie within me. They will never die. Always fueled by self hatred and depreciation.

I won’t go on waiting for a future that doesn’t exist. I never believed that I would fall in love. Never believed that there is someone out there for me. Who could ever want someone as broken and scarred as me? The romantic in me hopes, but the realist tells me not to because it knows, it knows how to spare me the pain. But the romantic always wins, there’s always hope. And from my hope I’ve grown to be quite the masochist. Without pain, I don’t know how to feel anymore. Without pain, there’s no pleasure. I hurt myself to produce the best literature I have ever written. My best poetry especially is born of the excruciating anguish, but it is also born of extreme love. I will always welcome this pain.

So in other words, I never want to stop feeling these emotions. I never want this pain of hoping for a future that doesn’t exist to end. I will fight to my dying breath with words that are the songs of my soul.

How do you break up with someone you never officially dated?

Today I read an article about when you break up with someone you never officially dated and immediately related to it. I mean, considering the state of our society today, where hook ups are as common as breathing (thanks to Tinder and those kinds of apps) and friends with benefits are just another type of friend to acquire, I wasn’t surprised that I too had been a part of one.

We all have our own reasons for entering into these kinds of relationships. For me in particular, i have commitment issues. Though it’s my ultimate dream to be married and have a family and stuff like that, it’s hard for me to open because of what’s happened in the past. I’m typically a very sensitive person, so the slightest thing has the biggest effects on me. I guess it’s not so much commitment issues as trust issues. A relationship should be built on trust, but I still remember the first time I confessed my love for someone in junior high and he laughed in my face. It hurt so much, but we kept in touch because of the mutual benefits we could reap from one another (I know this was the case because after we graduated from high school we didn’t talk to each other again for another two to three years).

This year I met someone that I had feelings for in high school (not the same guy as above who laughed in my face). I had no idea that we were so compatible in so many ways. We had a lot of similarities in terms of world views and how to raise a family and the same weird tastes, but the one thing that was dissimilar was our work ethic. He was…I don’t want to say lazy, but lazy and it was something I couldn’t stand. I wanted to be in a relationship with someone who was my equal, not someone I would have to mother. It was then I knew I couldn’t pursue as serious relationship with him and opted for a less than traditional relationship. I mean, for one, he was already in a relationship, but he hated the girl he was with. He confided in me and we would have intellectual exchanges that he couldn’t have with his girlfriend. I felt bad at times because I know how I’d feel if the person I loved was seeing someone else because i couldn’t provide him with the things that he needed.

What I didn’t expect was how much it would hurt when we decided to break it off. Unlike a traditional relationship, there’s no saying “ok, we’re over.” It just stopped. It went from texting and calling for twelve to fourteen hours a day to once in a few days and then now, it’s been weeks…Sometimes, when I think about it, it hurts as much as if I had been in a serious relationship because I did give up a part of myself. To be able to disconnect like he did, I do envy that, but would that make me as cold and as unfeeling as this world in which we now live? I refuse to let this world make me insensitive and hard.

I have no problem waiting for the right one. But having never been in a relationship before, I’m afraid. I’m afraid I can’t be perfect…I’m afraid that I’ll get hurt again. I’m afraid that my head will ruin my heart. All I know is that when I find the right one, my heart won’t be pounding, I will be calm and at peace. And I know that I will love them with my everything.

Prompted by this article:

Common Courtesy

In a society that is increasingly becoming technological, it is not a surprise that library etiquette has suffered as a result. Though it does not come as a surprise, I am still appalled at how some of my peers can’t even understand the simple concept respect for others. Again, this may be a result of the emphasis on self-interest that is so characteristic of the materialistic society we now live in.
From what I understand, the purpose of a library is to contain a range of reference material, primarily books for to assist in the further education of the students of the institution in question, but as we are in a digital age, we are more frequently seeing digital libraries instead of the traditional cozy libraries of what has become antiquity. Now, there’s nothing wrong with digital libraries and making texts available to students online as I have used quite a few electronic journals in my university career. In fact, the less I have to see and interact with people the better, especially when I’m short on time and need to get a lot of work done. The logical side of me actually applauds this advancement in sharing information. However, the romantic and idealistic side of me mourns for the death of the traditional library. I spent much of my childhood dreaming of owning a library so comprehensive that I’d forget what books I already owned. I dreamt of late nights sitting up in my own library reading everything and anything in it. Heck, I still dream of doing that and will absolutely do it even when the age of hard copy books ends. The romantic side of me is still angry that my university closed off the main library moving all its resources to the new digital library, taking away twelve or so floors of potential study space.
Like many book lovers, I love the musty smell of old books and that provided me a lot of comfort to go up to the higher, quieter floors of the library and write, basking in the smell and silence of the library environment. To find a library like that is rare now. The closest I’ve found is kind of in a basement and is absolutely freezing, but freezing is good. Freezing keeps me awake and I would definitely rather freeze than boil to death. This library is beautiful too, but recently has suffered some reductions in quiet study space. Yes, there are signs posted everywhere saying: “This is a quiet study library,” but hardly anyone respects that anymore. Yes, it’s much quieter than the digital library, but not as quiet as it should be because of the new setup. When I first started at this university, there were rows of carrels upon carrels, next to each other and back to back, but for some reason they decided to bring in more tables to accommodate groups. This has encouraged more talking and it’s frustrating especially since I come to the library to escape from noise as I have incredibly finicky study criteria like the environment must be absolute silence barring some unseen circumstances because I know that sometimes I am noisy (like when I first get to the library and am getting settled). I can make exceptions for situations like that, but what I can’t stand is people who come into the quiet library and talk at full volume for over three hours while I’m trying to write a timed LSAT practice. I don’t care if you’re struggling to get a concept, you do not come to a QUIET library to talk LOUDLY and laugh and generally disrupt everyone around you. Unfortunately there were about six of them and I couldn’t think of a nice way to tell them to shut up. I was so pissed off that my score suffered slightly during my practice and that made me so physically angry that I wanted to kill them. Especially that girl who had a really high pitched and loud voice who wouldn’t stop talking. And if you haven’t figured out from everything else I’ve written, I’m clearly not the nicest person in my head, so I hope they fail that accounting test and everything else in their degree and get kicked out of the business program as a result of it.
Sometimes I wish I had had the courage to tell them to shut up, but I was probably pissed enough that I would have thrown in half a dozen swears and punched something and really, I don’t want to cause that kind of commotion in the library as that would be completely contrary to the result I was trying to obtain. Also, as there were like six of them, if it did get physical, I’d probably be dead.
More and more I am thinking of a future in which I am alone with a hundred million dogs because the more I interact with people, the more I’m finding that I absolutely hate them. Of course there are exceptions because there are people in my life that I absolutely love and spend countless hours talking to, but I am one person and the number of people in my life in comparison to how many people there are in the world is negligible. I know it’s horrible to make a generalization that all people are ignorant assholes who deserve to die, but I’m doing it anyway. This may seem like a bleak future, but I feel that I would be happier this way. As shown by a lot of my other works, I am a giant paradox as most people are and this is exactly how I am now. As much as I’d like someone to share my life with, I’m equally afraid of commitment. This is the constant war I fight in mind. The realist vs. the idealist. Maintaining peace between the two is enough to keep me entertained for a lifetime.

My Apology

I never knew true loneliness until I had a companion, until I met you. Every night, every day I depended on our conversations. I never knew how important you were to me until I lost you. Though we were never that close and never spoke as much as we had in the last two weeks, I felt that I could trust you. There were things we talked about, things I told you that I’ve never told another person. Maybe I’m a fool for having trusted you, but I always believed that I should trust until my faith in you was disproven.

Last night we exchanged some heated words. Not in anger. But in fear. I was afraid and like Will Graham, fear made me rude. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel guilty about who you were or what you wanted to do. I know that I want those things, but would never have the impulsive courage to pursue them. I was afraid that I would lose what little self I had left and though I trusted you, I overreacted and said some things I now regret. I will never blame you for anything that happen, it was my own inexperience that led to this riff. If only you knew, how much I grew to love you in these last few weeks. If only you knew how desperately I clung to the idea of you and I, but my sense of propriety stopped me, as it always has. In these last few weeks, I’ve given away a part of myself. A part of me I’ll never get back. A part of me that no one else can have. It’s yours and it will always be yours. There was a void before I met you, an emptiness I thought could never be filled. I never thought I’d meet someone who had the same private interests as myself and I don’t think I ever will. I didn’t realize what I had in you until I lost you.

Most people drown themselves in alcohol and tears, wallowing in self-pity and despair, but I drowned myself in poetry and songs and moon cake. I kept replaying this song over and over, until the tears flooded my eyes and my heart felt a dull ache. I kept replaying this song to keep you in my head. This is the closest I’ve been to heartbreak. You have become one of the people I care most about. And in doing so I’ve allowed you to hurt me in a way no one else can. It’s the people you love most that cause you the most pain. The tears I shed last night in fear are nothing compared to the ones I shed now. “I couldn’t really blame you if you turned and walked away, but with everything I fee inside, I’m asking you to stay.”

You were my muse as much as the Patron of my Heart was. He appealed to my traditional values.  You, you were something else. You brought out the side of me, you brought out the part of me that was only seen in my novels and poetry. You amplified and refined my art. The Patron of my Heart could never do that. He confined me to ideals, confined me to a societal construction in a way you never did. You set my heart free. You made me feel freedom again.

I’m such a cerebral person that not only do I overreact, I overthink. Every word means a million other things. Every word leads to a million what ifs. When you said you were giving up, did you mean in me? Did what I say make it so you no longer wanted to be friends?

Tonight I feel a familiar dull ache. I told you once I was afraid of being hurt. This familiar loneliness, the inability to accept that there is someone who actually cares for me has returned. I can no longer see my worth or my beauty. This has become the heartbeat of my life. This is the taste of sadness.

Driving School

My relationship to driving school and getting my class 5 GDL driver’s licence is a love-hate relationship. I was sorta excited by the idea of getting a car in joint with my sister and finally not having to ask my dad for a ride when I work until 7pm, but at the same time, I didn’t really care. I didn’t have any real need for a driver’s licence because I was going to university and parking costs way too much for me anyways. Now that I’m graduating and it looks like I won’t be getting into law school, I will be working a lot more and will probably need the licence just so that I’m not such a hassle to my parents.

However, after my two week vacation and seeing how crazy Italians drive, I began to reconsider wanting to learn how to drive and also reconsidered moving to Italy despite my love for pasta. I came back not excited by the idea, but knew I had to continue with it. So early this morning we headed off to the school and I was beginning to get my excitement back. It was short-lived. As soon as the instructor opened his mouth, I knew it was going to be a long day. Now, I don’t say this to be rude, but if you can’t speak or understand English fully, you shouldn’t be teaching students how to drive. If I ask you a question and it takes you 20 minutes and 4 people trying to explain it to you for you to get it, you’re probably not qualified. I don’t care if you’ve been driving for 35+ years, it doesn’t automatically make you an expert in the field. I could be interested in writing for 20 years and churn out hundreds of crap manuscripts that never get reviewed and I never improve and decide to self-publish, doesn’t mean that I’m a good writer. You say that licensing is to regulate who should have the right to drive, maybe they should screen you for the same thing. You clearly don’t know what you’re talking about and you understand even less. There are two instructors that I know professionally from this school, that’s what made me choose it i the first place, but this instructor makes me want to forget about driving forever.

The classroom portion of the class is supposed to be 9-5 not 9-5:30 and today he only got through 20 some pages out of about 100. We watched a whole bunch of pointless videos made in the early 90s and he didn’t even know how to operate the DVD or computer. Every time he wanted to talk he would turn of the projector, why can’t he just leave it on and talk then go to the next slide instead of showing the slide, turning it off for 5 minutes to talk then turning the projector back on to show the slide that we have in our workbooks for about 3 seconds and turning it off again? Also, what’s the point of showing the “how to use this DVD” portion of the DVD and saying that that is the important point of the DVD? It clearly isn’t important, it’s the content not the “how to use.” Also, if the video has no sound, maybe you should turn it on so that we can hear what we missed. There’s no harm in re-watching some parts that were missed. I’m so pissed off right now.

Honestly, I don’t remember the instructor’s name, but it was something close to Asswipe. That would be a pretty accurate description of the services and attitude he provides. He is completely rude and I f***ing want to burying him in a pit of man eating pigs. Like the one in Hannibal. The one Mason Verger has. That one.

Then there’s the issue of the road test. I may have the theoretical knowledge and be good at it, but that is very different from application. I’m worried that I won’t be able to master everything required for driving in the time I’m given. Also, I don’t want to go with a certain driving examiner, but I don’t want them to be offended because they’ve known me for a while too. I just hope that that driving examiner will be all booked up and I will be able to go with a different examiner and avoid offending them.

I’m sorry for ranting so long about this. I will try not to post too many rants because I know how tedious they are to read. Once I get over this sleep deprivation I will resume posting short stories, poems and whatever else I normally post. Thank you for bearing with me.

Apologies for not writing a post last night

So I made a promise to myself that I would blog everyday. Unfortunately I was unable to do that last night and feel that I won’t be able to for the next two weeks as I have a crap load of exams coming up. So I will be on hiatus for the next two weeks, but if I find a spare moment, you will find the odd post. 

Not only do I have five exams coming up (three of which are 24 hours of each other), but I think I’ve developed some kind of a cold. So, this is really great for trying to study while not to fall asleep on my book while my head is spinning, my nose is congested, my eyes are burning and all the fun stuff that comes with a cold. 


This is what I'm talking about

This is what I’m talking about

So I’m a firm believer in reading the books before seeing the movie…apparently it goes unfulfilled most of the time. Today I watched bits and pieces of Divergent and had no idea what was going on. So what do I do? Like a person modern technological era, I go look it up on wikipedia and end up reading what the entire series is about. It sounds like a pretty good series, but I don’t think I’m going to read it since I’ve seen how much physical pain it puts a person through.

I’ve heard so much about Four and had high expectations for him. I was very disappointed. UGLY! Not to be shallow, but if he’s a lead, he better be good looking. I remember coming across something on my Tumblr about how there are so many attractive girls out there and guys not performing to that same level. Yeah…I’m starting to believe it. I’m also beginning to wonder about my sexuality…but anyways…not the point. I like guys, but some girls are just so F***ing pretty! It’s like a girl crush…which I think is becoming more common because most of my friends talk about their girl crushes and all have boyfriends. I’m glad that society is so much more accepting of this now than 100 years ago, but that’s the way it should be


Today I was an idiot
Today I forgot my laptop charger
And ended up carrying an 8 pound laptop that lasted for a total of 45 minutes for about 12 hours
But not really because I was studying
Sitting down
And hobbling about campus with 2 coats
2 sweaters
And 2 backpacks
Spent the rest of the 12 hours eating
And writing
Until my fingers cramped
And my wrist hurt
It was all very lovely

Now I’m thinking my novel is R rated….
Even though a 12 year old can understand it
It’s probably not appropriate
There’s a lot of affairs
A lot of sex
Which sucks
Since I can’t write those scenes
Or actions scenes
For the same reason

Then I slipped on some stair sitty structure
In heeled boots
And hurt my butt
But laughed instead
Yeah…and then some random guy started talking to me
And I just wanted to sleep

Now I’m tired and have lots of work to catch up on
Fun times of a university student

Stress, I’m beginning to feel it, are you?

As the last semester of my final year draws to a close, tensions are running high for me. I can hardly remember where these four years have gone, but here I am in the last few weeks struggling to focus on my remaining assignments. It’s not that they are boring, no, in fact, quite the contrary. The story of King Edward II is great, there is so much to explore in his death, but I can’t bring myself to read the necessary articles to actually get on writing the paper. Even now, I’m debating about whether I should be writing about Edward, homosexuality/homophobia, and torture because I’m beginning to feel that I would much rather write about Isabella. I haven’t the slightest clue what I’d write about Isabella, but maybe about the role of women in law or women and the institution of marriage. Both are interesting concepts to consider in Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II, but that would mean that I have to look up my sources all over again and that would be such a bother…well okay no, the prof has listed a couple sources I could go to in regards to women and the legal scene during early modern times, but I’m not sure if those are specific to The Merry Wives of Windsor, the play that originally asked us to explore the role of Mistress Ford and Mistress Page in the context of women under the law at the time. Thank goodness I have some extension days left and a couple cancelled classes to deal with all this crap!

I’m also taking a non-major English class on detective fiction which has me wanting to marry a police officer, don’t ask, just over-exposure’s done that to me. This class is really weird and goes against all my training as an English major. I mean, come on, multiple choice tests asking which drink the detective had in like chapter two of the book?! Who does that?! This prof apparently. And then there’s the issue of a book review. I’ve never written one and am terrified that perhaps I’ve revealed too much or maybe I sound too boring. There’s just no winning, so I’m glad he suggested that we have a class in which we bring our pieces to class and have our peers edit it. But again, consider that this is a non-major class, so I’m not expecting a whole lot from my peers. However, I do have a friend in English who’s in that class who is reliable in editing my work. I hope I will get some valuable feedback out of this session, otherwise this class has been a complete waste of time. And I’ve never met a class that’s so repetitive in their questions. Does a five paragraph essay sound reasonable for something that is 750 words? Obviously not. Same goes for if it was a 50 000 word essay. WHAT KIND OF QUESTIONS ARE THESE?! *Sigh* Maybe I’m just being to high strung and anal, but whatever, venting helps.

And don’t even get me started on psychology, which was supposed to be my GPA booster option class. GAWD! The amount of effort I put into that class to get the crappy marks I’ve been getting makes me think I should have taken something else like a postcolonial literature class or even another law and society course instead of this or even philosophy now that I think about it. Nothing is easier than one of those classes. I mean, last semester my philosophy prof thought I was an absolute genius, even though I was writing up my papers the night before, something that you absolutely CANNOT do in English. It’s like English teachers have special essay vision and they know when you’ve written it and how much effort you put into because your mark is usually a very good reflection of that.

Then there is Art History. Like what the heck?! You couldn’t let me take Chinese Art History. Nope, gotta be Japanese. And then you give me a partially racist teacher, who does make the occasional funny joke, but otherwise rather rude, but paradoxically, is very nice in one to one meetings, very respectful of difference…so…I don’t know. This course, though she says isn’t about memorization, is all about memorization. Even when I met with the prof, she said remember the key images that we’ve done in this course. That means memorize the key images and their information in my brain, is this wrong? That’s honestly what happened in the last “quiz” which was actually not really a quiz because it was worth 25% the same as my midterm (crazy I know!). I memorized everything, but still managed to mess up. I remember after I handed in the test (of course, that’s how it always works out) that the period for the first question was Muromachi not Momoyama and that there was a year for the painting called Catching a Catfish with a Gourd (1413), but I put a period instead. With all that considered, I should get a pretty good mark. At least significantly better than what I got on the midterm.

Convocation isn’t that far away and I am stressed that I won’t know how to properly walk the stage, accept my degree, pin my robe, have my hat fall off and a whole list of horrible scenarios that could potentially happen. I hope that I can just watch my classmates and see what they do, following their lead. It is highly unlikely that I will be the first person called up, at least I hope that there will be a few people before me (I am the sixth letter of the alphabet…so…). I’m the kind of person who needs the information a few days ahead of time to process and practice in my head a couple times. I can’t do this the morning of. People ask me if I’m excited. To be honest, I’m terrified. Terrified of facing the real world. Terrified of getting another rejection letter from law school. There’s just so much to be scared about, but I keep telling myself just to take it one day at a time, just be calm and each day with take care of itself. Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither am I. I can’t become a lawyer overnight, but with practice and time, I will fulfill that dream.

Which leads me to another point: driving school. I honest to God don’t give a sh*t about driving! I don’t understand what the big deal is?! It’s my life, my choice whether or not I decide to drive. Yes, I understand that in emergency situations it’s necessary that I know how to drive, but right now I’m a student who has no money and doesn’t want waste the money I don’t have learning how to drive, taking a test to drive when I don’t even want to, register a car I won’t use, pay for overpriced gas, park in an atrociously expensive parking lot while I’m going to school. I’m sorry, what part of this sounds exciting? Sure I’ll have more freedom, but at what price? My sanity? Possibly, but probably not that extreme. I have many pet peeves and one of them is people ridiculing or scolding me because I don’t have a drivers’ licence. Have you ever heard of minding your own business and keeping your damn opinions to yourself. While I’m on pet peeves, something else that annoys me is the question: “Are you Chinese?” followed by “Why can’t/don’t you speak Chinese?” Firstly, yes I am Chinese. Being Chinese is not a prerequisite for speaking Chinese, plus how many hundred dialects are there? If I said yes and started speaking my minority dialect with you, you wouldn’t understand a word I was saying. So, yes, I can speak Chinese, not fluently and not in a dialect you’d understand, so don’t ask if I’m Chinese. Secondly, mind your own business. If I choose not to speak Chinese, it doesn’t mean that I can’t do it. I have the choice not to. I can just as easily tell you to learn English. This is Canada, not China, so learn to speak the [swear word] language. If I move to Italy or France or Spain, I have to learn Italian, French or Spanish. It can’t be an ignorant twat and refuse to learn it because it’s “too hard.” I know this sounds harsh because there are people who really aren’t capable of learning English for academic or other reasons and I don’t blame those people. It’s the people who have the opportunity and time to further educate themselves that refuse to do so that annoy me. Like today, a Polish client came into my work place and was outraged that the signs were not in English and French, our official languages and that instead, Chinese was printed on them. He proceeded to yell in Polish and Spanish to get his point across stating, if Chinese was being printed on the sign, why weren’t the other languages? I would have to agree with him there. If English AND French are our official languages, we should make an effort to learn them. I find it utterly ridiculous that documents sent up to the Alberta government written in French has to be translated prior to submission. I mean, come on, French is our official language. I don’t care that you can’t all read French, but someone should be able to up there and they should be allowing those documents. We are being as exclusionary as Quebec can be at times…its not always fair. Life isn’t fair. Neither are my stress levels at this point. Oh well, at least I got to rant and get some of this stuff off my chest.

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