Whatevs. I feel like an ungrateful bitch.
Well shit, I guess this was my first really emo day in college. Let me say this right off the bat: it's terrible being emo and having to share a room. It never fails that Caitlin will only increase my mood either by being the exact opposite, or generally giving me the impression (admittedly, perhaps only in my mind) that she's really sick of me. Frankly, we hung out a lot the first few weeks, so it's not surprising. Really, I think I'm starting to get sick of her, too. I think it's because I'm used to being a recluse, and not used to being forced to being around the same people constantly. There's at least one place I can go to get away from people. Really, I guess there are plenty of places here for me to get away from other people, but I never really want to go there. Don't get me wrong, I still like talking to her and stuff. Just the times like now, when we're both in here doing separate things. I feel like we're both stepping on each others' toes somehow, even though we're on opposite sides of the room and on our computers. I think most of it is just that I'm not used to sharing a room. I can't decide if going back to Williamsburg made that worse or not.
Really, I was relieved to be home. No offense to anyone in the old 'burg (I refuse to call it the W-burg, and I'm too lazy to keep typing Williamsburg and Harrisonburg) but it was surprisingly unpleasant being there again. I figured it might be a little weird being around my parents for that long, but that wasn't bad at all. What was really terrible was the constant feeling that I was in high school again. I didn't honestly know that would be such a miserable feeling, especially because my last year was a really good one. Which is not to say that I didn't expect to be glad I was in college instead of high school; I really knew I would be. But as soon as we got off 64 (not even in town, just on 199), I started feeling like everything was back to normal and the past month or so was just some sort of crack-tastic summer camp.
Depending on how well you know me, or the image I try to put out, you may or may not know (but you probably do) that I'll say that things, especially movies and music, make me cry all the time. This is the skill of the artist, I'd like to think. Or the strength of my imagination and depth of my love for certain topics, I'd like even more to think. In any case, it's not often I truly cry without provocation like a movie or sad song. In fact, generally if I listen to a depressing song in order to cry, it won't work. But that's beside the point. In any case, it's rare that I cry without provocation involving an ideal or something. Also, when I came to school in August, yeah, I was a little homesick for a few hours, but I held it together, and starting the next day I got so busy with band and things that I stopped worrying about it. Having said that, I'll admit, I honestly cried I was so homesick Friday night. Seriously cried. I'd like to think that being in Williamsburg again was only the spark for it, and that most of the issue was my history exam I had taken that morning, but that's probably not true. (It sounds backwards, I know, but I'd just like to think that I'm so concerned about my history grade that I got that upset, in the hopes that next time I won't do that badly because I'll remember what happened before. That being said, my history book and notebook are sitting next to me on the bed and I'm still typing this instead of reading. It's the American and French Revolutions though, and you all know how slow general overviews of those are... Add to that the fact that I should know all of this stuff already, and shouldn't have to write anything down at all... That's what's most frustrating, is how little I know even about the things I thought I was pretty good with.)
That brings up another point. As much as I care about any of my classes, I'm really not doing well in any of them. I know it's probably from not studying enough. Or, really, at all. But at the same time, it's incredibly disheartening. I really feel like I've never learned how to study because I never had to in grade school. Now, of course, I have to. I fully expected this. But I also thought I could read faster than apparently I can. And I thought it wouldn't be so hard to learn how to skim. (Yes, I've never learned how to skim things effectively, just read faster when I really need to. And generally that results in not picking anything up at all.) And I figured there'd be at least one class I was just good at. Even if I had to study, for the most part, it would make sense. Well, I guess history 102 does make sense. At least I understand it when she lectures. And Brit. Lit., which is effectively a history class, makes a fair amount of sense. Some things more than others. History 150 is harder, mostly because he lectures with more general information, rather than dates and numbers. If I read everything I should for that class, I'm sure I'd do better. On top of this is calculus. The most basic calculus class you could take. I think it's even easier than my high school class. The difference is it's about why things work, not the fact that they do. And I don't have Wilson and Kate to teach me things again. It doesn't help that this is the only class that doesn't have attendance, so I generally skip it twice a week. That would be fine if I could still pass the quizzes. So far, it's been hit or miss. Some I get almost perfect scores. Some I fail. (In case you're wondering, today was the latter.)
I guess the gist of that paragraph is that I've realized college takes effort, even though high school generally didn't. What scares me is that I'm not even doing well in my history classes. Not that I don't know this information off the top of my head, but that I don't care enough to study even for those classes. Even for my midterm. Some days, I come back from class and, beyond not being able to look anyone in the eye on the way home, I can't even look up in my own room because the two pictures of Oscar Wilde I've got on the walls will make me feel like I've let him down and that's really a miserable feeling.
But I suppose rather than bitching and moaning about it, I should go study. Or go to bed so I'll wake up tomorrow at a reasonable hour and be able to study. It is tempting just to read, though.
Really, I was relieved to be home. No offense to anyone in the old 'burg (I refuse to call it the W-burg, and I'm too lazy to keep typing Williamsburg and Harrisonburg) but it was surprisingly unpleasant being there again. I figured it might be a little weird being around my parents for that long, but that wasn't bad at all. What was really terrible was the constant feeling that I was in high school again. I didn't honestly know that would be such a miserable feeling, especially because my last year was a really good one. Which is not to say that I didn't expect to be glad I was in college instead of high school; I really knew I would be. But as soon as we got off 64 (not even in town, just on 199), I started feeling like everything was back to normal and the past month or so was just some sort of crack-tastic summer camp.
Depending on how well you know me, or the image I try to put out, you may or may not know (but you probably do) that I'll say that things, especially movies and music, make me cry all the time. This is the skill of the artist, I'd like to think. Or the strength of my imagination and depth of my love for certain topics, I'd like even more to think. In any case, it's not often I truly cry without provocation like a movie or sad song. In fact, generally if I listen to a depressing song in order to cry, it won't work. But that's beside the point. In any case, it's rare that I cry without provocation involving an ideal or something. Also, when I came to school in August, yeah, I was a little homesick for a few hours, but I held it together, and starting the next day I got so busy with band and things that I stopped worrying about it. Having said that, I'll admit, I honestly cried I was so homesick Friday night. Seriously cried. I'd like to think that being in Williamsburg again was only the spark for it, and that most of the issue was my history exam I had taken that morning, but that's probably not true. (It sounds backwards, I know, but I'd just like to think that I'm so concerned about my history grade that I got that upset, in the hopes that next time I won't do that badly because I'll remember what happened before. That being said, my history book and notebook are sitting next to me on the bed and I'm still typing this instead of reading. It's the American and French Revolutions though, and you all know how slow general overviews of those are... Add to that the fact that I should know all of this stuff already, and shouldn't have to write anything down at all... That's what's most frustrating, is how little I know even about the things I thought I was pretty good with.)
That brings up another point. As much as I care about any of my classes, I'm really not doing well in any of them. I know it's probably from not studying enough. Or, really, at all. But at the same time, it's incredibly disheartening. I really feel like I've never learned how to study because I never had to in grade school. Now, of course, I have to. I fully expected this. But I also thought I could read faster than apparently I can. And I thought it wouldn't be so hard to learn how to skim. (Yes, I've never learned how to skim things effectively, just read faster when I really need to. And generally that results in not picking anything up at all.) And I figured there'd be at least one class I was just good at. Even if I had to study, for the most part, it would make sense. Well, I guess history 102 does make sense. At least I understand it when she lectures. And Brit. Lit., which is effectively a history class, makes a fair amount of sense. Some things more than others. History 150 is harder, mostly because he lectures with more general information, rather than dates and numbers. If I read everything I should for that class, I'm sure I'd do better. On top of this is calculus. The most basic calculus class you could take. I think it's even easier than my high school class. The difference is it's about why things work, not the fact that they do. And I don't have Wilson and Kate to teach me things again. It doesn't help that this is the only class that doesn't have attendance, so I generally skip it twice a week. That would be fine if I could still pass the quizzes. So far, it's been hit or miss. Some I get almost perfect scores. Some I fail. (In case you're wondering, today was the latter.)
I guess the gist of that paragraph is that I've realized college takes effort, even though high school generally didn't. What scares me is that I'm not even doing well in my history classes. Not that I don't know this information off the top of my head, but that I don't care enough to study even for those classes. Even for my midterm. Some days, I come back from class and, beyond not being able to look anyone in the eye on the way home, I can't even look up in my own room because the two pictures of Oscar Wilde I've got on the walls will make me feel like I've let him down and that's really a miserable feeling.
But I suppose rather than bitching and moaning about it, I should go study. Or go to bed so I'll wake up tomorrow at a reasonable hour and be able to study. It is tempting just to read, though.