Grad school

Good morning.

It is two a.m. right now, and I am awake because I fell asleep for ‘a quick nap’ in the evening and woke up just before midnight. I’m not so sure about the rest of the world but I hate waking up from naps because I’m always disoriented as fuck. My brain basically just turns into a nine-year-old the moment I wake up and I’m always like I’m dizzy and hungry and is this earth, what is life and where is my mom? and the general feeling of suckiness doesn’t usually go away for the next 34580238940 hours.

Anyway, my point is that I took a late nap and couldn’t go back to sleep so here I am trying to work on a new story idea and doing everything else but that. Because I’ve been relatively absent over the past month (more like year, actually) here’s a lowdown of life as it is so far:

1. Still unpublished, unbuplished, unbublished.

2. My mom’s doing great with her giant fight against cancer (almost 90% percent of her tumors are gone)

3. but she likes to play it up sometimes to get what she wants (which she is allowed to, simply because cancer is an asshole and people who have undergone chemo should be given fucking medals)

4. and one of the things she wants most right now is for me to go to grad school

5. which I sort of applied half-heartedly just to appease her

6. and surprisingly, I got an offer of admission,

7. which leads me to my current predicament and the subject of my nightmares: going back school.

I hate school. I mean, I don’t hate hate school, like I don’t want to blow up the buildings or kill the professors or anything like that. If anything, I think it is great that people go to institutions so that they can grow and gain knowledge and learn how not to be shitty little assholes (although some people might have missed this point completely). I’m all for continuous learning. I just, you know, don’t actually want to have to study. Because it sucks. And also because I hate studying. But mostly because it sucks. Yeah, I’m very good at giving good, credible arguments. It’s surprising how nobody has approached me to be a lawyer.

There’s a part of me that’s like, “Hey, it’ll be good for you. You’ll be learning how to think more strategically instead of just being a foot soldier, and you’ll be in a class full smart, independent people whom you can learn from and you’ll be doing researches and thesis papers and publishin your dissertation in journals. You’ll be acting like an adult for once instead of just acting like a giant kid who’s turning 18 for the 6th year in a row.”

But there also that other part of me that’s like, “Ugh, no. *Please excuse me while I go lie in bed for the next 37 hours and ignore my life’s responsibilities.*”

These two parts have been at loggerheads for the past few weeks ever since I found out that I got in. I mean, I already accepted the offer so I guess I’m actually going to have to put actual effort into life for once but the very idea of it is just so…UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Even now, writing about it makes me want to throw myself at a wall, which is something I’ve done once because this person jumped out at me from behind a door and I got frightened. I think I walked around with a bruise on my forehead for days.

I’m sorry I’m always so whiny on this blog. And that the blog url is misleading because there are actually no puns. I hate puns. I mean, I don’t hate hate them. I find them funny in a HAHA-OMG-SOMEBODY-STOP-THIS-PERSON kind of way, which doesn’t even make sense to me right now because I’m too groggy from this strange nap-disorientation thing I have going on. I think I’ll go back to bed.

Goodnight, world. Lights out. Peace. Ta-ta. Buh-bye.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s