Hello!
I suppose you could say I'm experiencing my whatever-fraction-of-life crisis. Though really, that's how you could describe me for the past few years. Some rant-like paragraphs are to follow, so only click if you're fine with that.
In my grade ten Career Studies course, I said I either wanted to be a writer or an astronaut. However, most of the classes I took in high school would seem to indicate I was heading in the latter direction. My favourite class back then was calculus, because we'd always be learning new things. I enjoyed taking what I already knew and using it to understand new concepts, which would in turn be used to comprehend even more. So basically, what I enjoyed was learning.
In the case of English class, it was a vastly different story. I often found it ironic that I loved writing, but hated English, but that was exactly the case with me. I didn't really understand it when I was younger, but I do have, and have always had a photographic memory. I learned the basic rules of English grammar and spelling in elementary school, and with every increasing year, we'd learn basically the same material, with a few new additions. However, unlike calculus, I didn't use what I already knew to continue; in contrast, I used what I already knew to answer the questions, because I could have answered the same questions the year before. English became too tedious and repetitive for me.
As a result, it essentially became too easy for me to really enjoy, finally leading up to my experiences in grade eleven. Early on in the year, we were given an assignment to write a short story, simple enough. I tried to have fun with it, writing as best I could, and producing something I was proud with, and above all, liked. However, my mark did not reflect this. Then, the final project came along, which was worth 15% of the course mark. I was forced to write an essay showing how humans are inherently evil, which is something I completely disagree with. So I sat down on a snow day, spending a little more than one hour writing a five-page essay, filling it with big words, and crap that went completely against my personal beliefs. In essence, it was the polar opposite of the short story I had written earlier in the year. My teacher spoke with me about it, asking if I had gotten any help in writing it, which I of course denied. I was getting ready to say something along the lines of "was it that bad?" when I found out I had gotten 14.3% of the alotted 15% it was worth, the highest mark in the class. She said I must have spent a lot of time working on it, leaving me without the heart to say I produced the work of lies in nearly an hour. Another irony here, in that one of my highest English grades has become my primary example of why I hate the subject as a whole. XD
Anyway, I began working toward a career in the sciences, going to grade twelve in calculus, chemistry, physics, and algebra, ranked from most to least favourite. All of these interested me in the beginning, and in many cases still do. Algebra is the most annoying currently, what with so many repetitions of numbers, to the point where I actually beginning to draw parallels to English. I will not forget that one day in stats two years ago, a 2nd year university course, in which the professor dedicated a lesson to teaching us how to calculate averages. That's right, I'm paying $500 for someone to sit in front of a class and tell me things I've known since I could count my age on my fingers. I stood up and walked out that class, already beginning to question whether university was ever really the best place for me.
I read an article in the newspaper about most people going to college/university to get a career or job, not to learn. Most people like the idea of getting a good job, with a nice paycheque, while settling down and starting a family. I won't knock the idea, as I'm sure it works for a good number of folks, but it isn't quite for me. First of all, I've steered away from forming a relationship due to my fears and annoyances about what and who I am, and secondly, I never did care about making money. I have a co-worker who is twenty-seven going on sixty-five, who says he can't wait until the day he doesn't have to work anymore. My dad, on the other hand, turned sixty-five in January and has no plans to retire anytime soon, so I suppose it runs in the family. Aside from needing it to live in this capitalist society of mine, I would never choose a career or job based on the money. I want to learn more every day, meet new and interesting people, and, if given the opportunity, save the world, and leave my mark on this chunk of green and blue rock called Earth.
So there, that much is certain. But the bigger question, unforunately, is how? Do I go back to school? If so, what degree or degrees should I work for? If not, then what? Do I take time to study history and languages like I have been? And what about the sciences? How to I encourage myself to write more? And when I do, how do I get it out there? Is fanfiction even worth it? Do I keep my quirk from the world, or embrace it?
Oh yes, I have a lot of questions to ask myself, and too many answers to choose from. I went to a TESL seminar earlier this week, to see if I could perhaps get into that, teaching English abroad for awhile. I'm both wary and intrigued at the same time, wondering if it's right for me. My other option is staying at my current job at the supermarket, writing on my offtime and perhaps working on getting a degree in something. I'm about eight credits away from getting a Bachelor of Mathematics, and a few more away from a Bachelor of Science. So why not? XD
Here are all my books here:
The shelf with Aipom has all my math and science texts, while the bottom has foreign-language dictionaries(though the big red one is English) and grammar books. So I have quite a bit of material regardless of which direction I take. XD
Oh, and I kind of like my new-found tradition of adding a video to my entries now, so here goes! This has been one of my favourite songs from one of my favourite artists for nearly a decade now, and I always end up playing it when I need some cheering up.
In my grade ten Career Studies course, I said I either wanted to be a writer or an astronaut. However, most of the classes I took in high school would seem to indicate I was heading in the latter direction. My favourite class back then was calculus, because we'd always be learning new things. I enjoyed taking what I already knew and using it to understand new concepts, which would in turn be used to comprehend even more. So basically, what I enjoyed was learning.
In the case of English class, it was a vastly different story. I often found it ironic that I loved writing, but hated English, but that was exactly the case with me. I didn't really understand it when I was younger, but I do have, and have always had a photographic memory. I learned the basic rules of English grammar and spelling in elementary school, and with every increasing year, we'd learn basically the same material, with a few new additions. However, unlike calculus, I didn't use what I already knew to continue; in contrast, I used what I already knew to answer the questions, because I could have answered the same questions the year before. English became too tedious and repetitive for me.
As a result, it essentially became too easy for me to really enjoy, finally leading up to my experiences in grade eleven. Early on in the year, we were given an assignment to write a short story, simple enough. I tried to have fun with it, writing as best I could, and producing something I was proud with, and above all, liked. However, my mark did not reflect this. Then, the final project came along, which was worth 15% of the course mark. I was forced to write an essay showing how humans are inherently evil, which is something I completely disagree with. So I sat down on a snow day, spending a little more than one hour writing a five-page essay, filling it with big words, and crap that went completely against my personal beliefs. In essence, it was the polar opposite of the short story I had written earlier in the year. My teacher spoke with me about it, asking if I had gotten any help in writing it, which I of course denied. I was getting ready to say something along the lines of "was it that bad?" when I found out I had gotten 14.3% of the alotted 15% it was worth, the highest mark in the class. She said I must have spent a lot of time working on it, leaving me without the heart to say I produced the work of lies in nearly an hour. Another irony here, in that one of my highest English grades has become my primary example of why I hate the subject as a whole. XD
Anyway, I began working toward a career in the sciences, going to grade twelve in calculus, chemistry, physics, and algebra, ranked from most to least favourite. All of these interested me in the beginning, and in many cases still do. Algebra is the most annoying currently, what with so many repetitions of numbers, to the point where I actually beginning to draw parallels to English. I will not forget that one day in stats two years ago, a 2nd year university course, in which the professor dedicated a lesson to teaching us how to calculate averages. That's right, I'm paying $500 for someone to sit in front of a class and tell me things I've known since I could count my age on my fingers. I stood up and walked out that class, already beginning to question whether university was ever really the best place for me.
I read an article in the newspaper about most people going to college/university to get a career or job, not to learn. Most people like the idea of getting a good job, with a nice paycheque, while settling down and starting a family. I won't knock the idea, as I'm sure it works for a good number of folks, but it isn't quite for me. First of all, I've steered away from forming a relationship due to my fears and annoyances about what and who I am, and secondly, I never did care about making money. I have a co-worker who is twenty-seven going on sixty-five, who says he can't wait until the day he doesn't have to work anymore. My dad, on the other hand, turned sixty-five in January and has no plans to retire anytime soon, so I suppose it runs in the family. Aside from needing it to live in this capitalist society of mine, I would never choose a career or job based on the money. I want to learn more every day, meet new and interesting people, and, if given the opportunity, save the world, and leave my mark on this chunk of green and blue rock called Earth.
So there, that much is certain. But the bigger question, unforunately, is how? Do I go back to school? If so, what degree or degrees should I work for? If not, then what? Do I take time to study history and languages like I have been? And what about the sciences? How to I encourage myself to write more? And when I do, how do I get it out there? Is fanfiction even worth it? Do I keep my quirk from the world, or embrace it?
Oh yes, I have a lot of questions to ask myself, and too many answers to choose from. I went to a TESL seminar earlier this week, to see if I could perhaps get into that, teaching English abroad for awhile. I'm both wary and intrigued at the same time, wondering if it's right for me. My other option is staying at my current job at the supermarket, writing on my offtime and perhaps working on getting a degree in something. I'm about eight credits away from getting a Bachelor of Mathematics, and a few more away from a Bachelor of Science. So why not? XD
Here are all my books here:
The shelf with Aipom has all my math and science texts, while the bottom has foreign-language dictionaries(though the big red one is English) and grammar books. So I have quite a bit of material regardless of which direction I take. XD
Oh, and I kind of like my new-found tradition of adding a video to my entries now, so here goes! This has been one of my favourite songs from one of my favourite artists for nearly a decade now, and I always end up playing it when I need some cheering up.
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