Entry 41--AKA: "Senioritis in full force."

Summer school round two.

As of Tuesday I have been waking up with the first question I ask myself being "What the hell was I thinking?" I had a great job and I quit because of school, and now here I am up to my eyeballs in literature and papers during what might be the most mild and beautiful summer I've ever experienced in Sacramento.

What the hell was I thinking?

It's strange to think that somewhere along the way school took priority. It's even stranger to think that in less than a year (307 days, as a matter of fact) I will be walking across the stage to receive my A.B. from a University of California institution. And even more strange still is that I have a great shot at getting accepted into another one for graduate work: the surprises never cease.

I ask myself: when did all of this begin? I have been trying to remember the exact moment I had finally convinced myself that school was more important than my job. It always seemed as if, no matter how many times I told people that school WAS more important, work still took precedence: school didn't pay my rent or my bills. Hell, I couldn't even qualify for financial aid from ARC (a rant for another time), so why should I bother focusing on an education that, as far as I was concerned, made me believe could do better out in the working world?

Which is what brings me to "senioritis." I find it amusing, a sort of great cosmic joke really, that just about the time I get serious about my education--when I quit my job, plan for my future with volunteer work, internships and focusing my time on my education solely--is exactly the same time I want nothing more than for it to be over. Maybe it's just that the grueling pace of the quarter system instills that in people--three quarters, each ten weeks long, minimum of 13 units--and makes them all the more in a hurry to want to finish. If you calculate that awful equation along with the following stipulations: all literature and philosophy classes, plus the two rounds of the 6-week summer sessions, what you are left with is a conglomeration of never ending reading and paper assignments, and only a handful of days during the year with which to recover.

Forgive the language, but: fucking hell on earth.

Now, the best I can do at this point is continue my mantra: almost done. After 4 years straight of full time school, with a year of screwing around after I graduated high school, I am almost done. I've done well (as my GPA clearly shows), I've learned so much, I can talk about what I've learned, and I can see the effects of my education in everything I do. Plus, I'm damned smart, and I mean that as humbly as I can possibly say it, but it makes me proud that I can say that, since I don't think I would have said it and meant it even a few short years ago.

[almostdonealmostdonealmostdone]...*sigh*

So, senioritis, I accept you; I will live with you; I will deal with you. However, it ends June 2010, my friend, so keep in mind this is a short run. Then, it's off to bigger and better things, and you will be nothing more than a fond memory from my time at UCD.