I wanted to make this blog bigger. F*** it.
I wanted to take it to WordPress.org, in an effort to attract ad revenue. F*** it.
I wanted to expand, feature guest posts, new features, and new attractions. F*** it.
I wanted to lose 30 pounds. F*** it, 20’s fine.
I wanted to write a long, apologetic, and awesome comeback post. F*** it.
Instead, you’re getting this.
I spent the summer away at camp, working with children. Exciting. My 10th summer, I finally became a supervisor. Awesome. I did this ignoring the opportunity cost of more money, job experience, and a summer in the city. Was it worth it? In the end, yes, I did actually have a great summer.
As I sit at my desk, in my blank room, I wonder what I’m doing with my life. Where posters featuring Kate Hudson as Penny Lane in an erotic pose from 2000’s Almost Famous and Hayden Panettiere in her cheerleader outfit once hung alongside legends Jim Morrisson, John Lennon, and Dwight from The Office, now stands a blank beige wall. Where close to 50 twelve-inch classic car replicas once rested, now rest; three picture frames, a broken GameBoy, and an empty pack of gum.
Where my clothes once hung, hang the clothes of my sister, far too feminine or small to be worn on a nineteen-year-old man. Where my black, bulky, Bar Mitzvah-present desktop computer once sat on my desk, lies… wait, it’s still there. Rusting and unused by myself. Joining it on my desk is my new 13-inch MacBook pro, on which I’m currently writing this blog post. With my room almost devoid of my presence, it would seem like a normal scene in the room of a nineteen year old student, away at college in some magical town far far away.
But its not. As I write this I sit at my desk, unemployed except for a rare freelance opportunity from The Suburban, (something that can’t exactly continue until I e-mail my boss, reminding him I still exist and am interested in writing). As my friends enjoy their last few days of summer before university starts up again, I sit at my desk, exhausted from two menial days of school. This being not university, but a private CEGEP that now includes my friend’s sixteen and seventeen year old siblings, as students embarking on their post-secondary life. And as they begin what they hope remains a simple two-year journey, I begin to close what’s been a three and a half year one. Why? I f***ed up. How? By refusing to attend class or do assignments at my former CEGEP, Dawson College, preferring instead to waste my days away my hanging out in the school newspaper office or a cafeteria essentially only populated by my otherwise minority of a religion.
But shit happens. While some people can still pass a seemingly easy public CEGEP without ever attending class, its relatively impossible to continue passing without doing any assignments. But the funny thing about that is it doesn’t matter anymore. Though I dug myself into an academic hole, I am currently in the process of getting out of it, leaving Dawson and my former my errors in judgment, both academic and social, behind while I attend a school where my average jumped by over 20% (the R-Score jump still TBD) in just one semester.
So why the relatively pessimistic article, despite the apparent fact that things are getting better? As I sit at my desk, unemployed, single, and a nearly 20-year-old student still absent from University, I look at my past mistakes and simply say: “F*** It”. A wise person once said that we learn about history because those who do not are doomed to repeat it, and they were extremely true in that statement. In that regard, I guess this article can indeed serve one purpose; though my own mistakes can’t exactly be erased, the knowledge of my story can indeed provide knowledge as to what happens when you fall into the Dawson Trap. You end up spending more for one semester of a CEGEP than you did for five semesters of another. But despite this, I am still on my way up, still treading water, refusing to drown myself in my sorrows and regrets.
Does that make me unhappy? Not at all. As I sit at this desk reflecting on past mistakes, I’m reminded that I’m lucky enough to be living in a situation like I am. I don’t have to worry about food, water, shelter, or war. I sleep in a comfortable bed in a comfortable suburban neighborhood, with none of my friends family or acquaintances dying by the day, victims of war.
As bad as you think life can get (and really, mine hasn’t been that bad at all), it can always be far, far, worse. Remember that, and stay tuned for much less depressing blog posts. Life getting you down? F*** it, who cares? Live with it, work on improving it, and you’ll become a much better person in the process.