I really, really, really loathe college. That isn't news. It's just reality....and I didn't expect it to change at all. Granted, it's only Monday, and I just moved in Friday, but this is going to be a tough semester. Tougher than the last one, which wasn't that surprising, either; given that each one has just seemed to get progressively more unpleasant since I came here. Sure, the play last spring kept me busy, and around people, but it was just like another class: You came in, did your job, endured coworkers, then left. Haven't slept well at all, which is nothing new, except that it's maybe a change from most of summer, where it seemed like I was sleeping too much.
Children's Lit will be my favorite class this semester, I think. Not sure what that says about me. Especially since it's an 8:30 a.m. class, just like all of Dr. Dial-Driver's. I've read through three and a half schoolbooks already, and I haven't even been studying that much. I have been hiking in circles, which always feel ridiculous around here, because there isn't anywhere to go, so I'm not sure what it accomplishes. Half the time I was downtown in Tahlequah I was stopping by Morgan's Bakery. Here? I have no desire to get smushed by a car on the highway like Louie the cat in Bill Wallace's Upchuck and the Rotten Willy(which is a children's book, by the way). But that can get frustrating, too, being marooned on an island-prison of foolish ideas in the midst of a vast ocean of sky and prairie, with the only way to escape being large obnoxious cars.
In Greek mythology, Pandora's opening of her box let all kinds of horrors into the world. As wonderful a town as Tahlequah is, there are all kinds of reasons - most of which are too inconsequential to even be defined - that NSU was not the greatest school ever. Much of this could be due to being trapped by tradition - CCF certainly was, at any rate. Maybe part of it was knowing so many people who had gone there, I felt like I had to do even better than they all did, maybe. At the bottom of Pandora's box, the last thing to fly out was hope. Hope of leaving isn't much of something to hang on to, but you hang on to whatever you can to survive. The BCM and SWAT were amazing to be involved with. And I did leave, which was good, I guess. I feel like I'm getting a better education here, I think. RSU doesn't have all the traditions that NSU does; it's possibly the newest university in the state, as compared to the oldest. But there doesn't seem to be any room for hope here. And that is very concerning at the least, dismaying and alarming the rest of the time. Because if you don't have hope - of something, anything, really - then what good is there in going through the motions of living? Filling out the mindless assignments of busywork to be turned in, dealing with stupid foolish authors writing drivel.
I tried to play guitar some earlier tonight, finding a halfway-decent spot on the theater steps. Couldn't seem to play right, and then I got thoroughly cussed out by a large red squirrel to invading his space. Or for playing badly. He was the right size of squirrel to be a bouncer. And I thought I read somewhere a long time ago that squirrels sometimes had rabies, so I didn't feel like sticking around and maybe getting bitten. It just seemed like a perfect encapsulation of my college experience.
So I'm typing away in my apartment as the laptop lights up the darkness of night, working on a blog post. A couple, actually, since besides this one I'm trying to work on the recap of this year's SGYC experience. And I'm still just as clueless about what the future holds as ever. But maybe more miserable, which is saying something. "Don't be sad, little Joshua. God has a special place for those who feel left out," says Abigail the Cow in Max Lucado's book The Crippled Lamb(another children's book!) I know that at some point this time will prove to have been useful in some way, but this sure isn't it. I'm not sure how I can do this for another year.
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