One Nestea Later

i gave up on studying Kin tonight. i repetitively read about ten blogs, seeming to have forgotten that i read them already. tomorrow i write my last exam. i don't see why i need to learn kinesiology if i'm getting a degree in communication. why am i learning stuff that my sister who's in nursing at the University of Alberta needs for her degree?
anyone who's been reading this blog for a while has probably followed the ups and downs that this semester has wrought on my mental health. suffice to say, it's far from the worst i've ever experienced. it's an odd combination. i thrive easily on pressure, but i hate it. i enjoy the challenges that school puts in front of me but i can't stand the archaic need that the institution has to put us all on the same page.
why a kinesiology elective? why not a photography class? a class that consists of materials that i'm learning about and discussing. both here adn at the University of Ottawa i asked about getting into a phtography class. if you aren't a declared fine arts major at either university you aren't allowed in. why? why can't i take a class that i can reap the benefits of? why make me take a class i hardly went to because i don't find it interesting and it's early in the morning when i'd rather get in a rare sleep that's longer than 5 hours.
in my own department i can't get in to classes i want to take that belong to the stream i'm interested in. i'm effectively shut out of my education until 49 other people decide they don't want to wait to get in, or i wait another year for the class to be offered. it took me four semesters to get into the magazine class i had this semester.
how can i be expected to learn what the institution wants me to if i can't learn what i want?
i like my field. i like going to malls and unweaving the fabric of the mass messages that hound you every step of the way. i like applying what i'm interested in.
i'm not interested in why homeopathic medicine might not be scientifically proven.
my parents and relatives keep asking me what i'm going to do when i get my degree.
at first i wasn't sure. i have no problem doing labour jobs, i enjoy them. when i worked for Strathcona County the past two summers i actually wanted to go to work every day. i know that this probably wouldn't make some people happy if it were a career move, and constant prodding by family and friends who've said "you'd be a good prof" has found a way to worm its way into my brain and decide that it sounds like a good idea.
i want to go to grad school. i want to be able to look up at a room full of people and say "i'm your prof, and i'll make sure what you learn in here is something you can look back on and realize that you can use it to your advantage." most everyone wants to make a difference. i want my difference to be in the ivory tower telling people why the paint is cracking.
this will mean working my ass off. i need a 3.5 CGPA to even be considered. i have no grades posted yet for this semester, but i'm guessing i'll be around a 3.0 to 3.2.
i remember when i started university and had no idea what i wanted to do. i was a science kid thrust into the civil service, surrounded by politics and not allowed to take a science degree for fear it would interfere with HoC Page duties. maybe it was one of those intricate little nudges that life often gets. i wanted to take journalism. i can write. if there's one thing i hold above the heads of every other academically successful person to walk out the doors of my high school it's the scoring 100% on the written sections for both English and Social Studies. three people in the province scored 100% on the english written that year. far as i know, i'm the only one to have gotten both.
i wanted journalism. i can write. you know what the next nudge was? not wanting to pay for a meal plan at carleton. thus enters the domain of communication at Uof O.
i remeber thinking that i could go to school and my guitar would be my ultimate escape. no confines of education if you can play six strings.
while i haven't washed away that hope, it's certainly been diluted. i love my music but i have neither the time nor the opportunity to exercise it in any way that would allow a sustainable form of freedom right now.
and so enters the prospect of a masters or phd. the pinnacle of professional education in our culture. something i had never really considered before. and then this semester thundered in with the sole purpose of trying to break down the walls i've worked so hard to keep together in my head.
so to this last semester i say this:
after tomorrow i am going to hold up both of my hands to you, give you the finger, and say a big fuck you, you couldn't stop me.
your ethereal attempts to push me to the limit are at an end.
i've made it through your bullsit. i've made it through all the waiting. i've made it through all the picosecond deadlines.
tomorrow i'm free, and nothing you can do can shackle me next semester.

current mood: "Battle of One" by 30 Seconds to Mars

One Nestea Later