During the all-encompassing misery that was the summer math course I was taking at Stanford, I had time for little else. I definitely didn’t have time to actually go out because I was too stressed about most likely flunking the course, depressed about not being able to easily pass or take such a simple math course, and sad about not knowing what I wanted to do with my life. Well kind of knowing, but doubting I would ever be smart or good enough, just in general, but also to do the thing I would want to do.
But I couldn’t tell if I really wanted to do it because I think I’ve been depressed for a while now, and so virtually sounds exciting to me anymore. I don’t want to much of anything really. Nothing I used to do makes me happy anymore. I don’t think anything actually makes me happy anymore, but I’m not sure because I don’t really remember what happy feels like. It doesn’t really matter though, because I’m too sad to want to do anything or see any of my friends. And I’m too anxious to talk to people about doing the things I want to do or even do them altogether. I’m too anxious to talk to professors or other students, or make other friends, or engage in other activities, or start new hobbies because I’m haunted by impostor syndrome and am afraid I will be terrible at doing the thing I want to do or will sound stupid talking to other people about anything and then just afraid I’m too stupid in general.
I didn’t have any energy to go out and do anything and I didn’t want to see people because I was fear-spiraling and didn’t want anyone to see how much of a mess I probably was inside.
I say probably because I tried not to think about how much of a mess I probably was either. I self-medicated with all five seasons of Angel and then all seven seasons of BTVS for the second time in my life. I don’t know if watching both of them gave me any closure that I felt I need from my first watch-through because apparently I was drunk for the entire first go-round of BTVS because I mis-remembered so many crucial and non-crucial plot points.
For example, I thought Giles died when HE NEVER DID. I’m mad. Where the hell was I for my entire freshman year of high school? Oh yeah. Ugh.
On the slightly sunnier side, I think I may have gotten an A in the summer course?? But I guess I’ll never know because I foolishly took it Pass/No Pass because I was terrified I would do dreadfully. To be fair to myself though, which is something I never feel the need to do, I had flunked every quiz leading up to the final exam. Our first professor indicated that our performance on these quizzes was to be a major indicator on how we would perform on the final and in the course as a whole.
I’m torn between hating and liking the course. I don’t think I hate it anymore, but at the time, before I started getting the material– which was, unfortunately, during the final week of the course–I was pretty miserable.
100% of our entire grade was contingent upon our final exam. That was terrifying. I can deal with, and even enjoy, 100% of a final grade being based on a single paper. I prefer that, even. But historically, I have not been able to place my confidence in final exams. Or even exams in general.
Usually, I work really hard on all the assignments before exams so I have a buffer for when I inevitably fail the final or midterm exam. I never learned how to take exams because the school I used to attend were very constructivist and if you did not want to take exams, you could choose classes that did not have exams.
I was one of many students who crafted my schedule that way. By high school, I was pretty sick of doing poorly on every exam I was forced to take. So as soon as I had completed all the general education courses the school required all students to complete, I dove into government & politics, religion, social studies, literature, and composition classes. All exam-free classes. I was a humanities king. Or at least I’d like to think I was. I wasn’t a straight A student, not until the end of high school, anyway. But I definitely enjoyed writing over exams, any day.
So. When it came time to take exams again, in college and in summer college courses, I was pretty screwed ill-prepared. I took a math class my senior year of high school even though I didn’t need to. I guess I’m a bit sadistic in that way. It must be a hobby of mine, flunking math classes, because I seem to keep taking them despite knowing what pain is in store for me and not needing to take them in the first place.
And there were exams in that high school math class, because it’s hard to assess one’s math ability in an essay, but they were few and did not count much. And the final was optional! No one had to take it! But if you took it, he would grade it and it would be included in your final grade, regardless of your performance. But I chose to take it anyway! Even though nothing in my math performance leading up to that final exam that year gave any indication that I understood the material or should take an optional exam on said subjects I was not understanding. But that’s me! Doing the unnecessary and painful just for kicks!
For the summer course, I could not opt out of that final exam. But I could opt to take the class Pass/No Pass, and with everything riding on that one final exam, I couldn’t bank on understanding all the material by the end of those 8 weeks. I knew I was getting some of the material, but I wasn’t sure it was enough to score higher than a C. So I Pass/No Passed that class. And I passed. But I don’t know by how much because the transcript just says CR which I believe stands or Credit Received. But that could also stand for Credit Refused or Rejected or anything else.
Not being able to know how I did is really bugging me, though. Not that the grade even matters, because my school wouldn’t put the grade I got from Stanford into my GPA anyway. They don’t accept credit from outside institutions to count toward my general education requirements or as part of my GPA. Outside courses are put as Pass/No Pass on my transcript anyway, regardless if I took them for a letter grade or for credit/no credit. So I figured I may as well beat them to the punch and just take the course Pass/ No Pass.
Bluh. But I don’t even CARE about that stupid math class. Sure, I feel a little bad that my parents may have wasted like $5,500 dollars on a summer course that my school won’t even accept, but I knew I wasn’t going to major in math. Not only that I wasn’t going to, but that I am unable to major in math. I don’t have the skill and I don’t have the prerequisites to take any college math classes and then finish that major in less than 5 or 6 years.
But who cares! I don’t want to do math anyway! I mean I wish I was good at it, or at least didn’t suck at it, but I wish I was better at a lot of things! Most things, actually. So does everyone. I think. But the problem arises when I think about the only thing that doesn’t sound like a shitty or miserable job. And that is screenwriting. I don’t fancy anything else, really. Maybe other forms of writing, but nothing so much as this. And I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I will be good enough at it to get to pursue it professionally. Or even do it in any form. I don’t think I can get into another school for it when I have nothing to show for my interest in it. I’m afraid I’ll be terrible at it and be told I can’t do it and then have nothing else I want to do and end up nowhere. I don’t think I’ll get a chance to do it, and I’m terrified it’s too late for me. I’m terrified I’m 19 and it’s too late to change the course of my life which was pretty much directionless to begin with.
Another Cynical Buffy Blog 