Scott Harden (the rusty, but fighting-back “blogging protagonist”) returns once again to add a fragment of text to the largest document of his life: The ScottIsHot.com weblog. With months lying between today and my last blog entry, it should be assumed that many things have changed in my life. I’ll do the best to record them, as always, so that in the future I’ll be able to come back to these texts, read how silly I was, and put my future life back in perspective. So, with no further adieu, I shall begin with a rant. I’m not bitter; don’t worry. Apathetic perhaps, but still happy =o)
With the long-awaited completion of yet another semester in my seemingly endless (and perpetually torturous) college education, I find myself more uncertain about my future than ever before. I spent twelve years of my life in school, starting with kindergarten. The thought of spending ten or twelve more in college is revolting, but I’m finally beginning to realize that, somehow unknowingly, my “plan” all along has set me up to do just that. It’s discouraging – I don’t feel like discussing it now – though I must confess it’s continuously on my mind so I feel I should just let it out. Many of my current thoughts, views, and ideas are influenced by my growing apathy toward higher education, and an increasing desire simply to be done with college – a desire to work, have a home, a family, and a normal life – regardless of my occupation. I’m almost done with a bachelor’s degree in biology (with a zoology concentration) with a minor in chemistry. The last four years I imagined that the closer I got to completing my degree, the more excited I’d become about finishing it. Here I am, with one semester away from obtaining that degree, and I’m beginning to realize that it doesn’t “finish” anything. It’s just a reminder of how little I’ve actually done these last four years, and how much longer I have ahead of me. My plan is to start applications for graduate schools in Florida with the hope of obtaining a master’s degree. I was rejected from the D.M.D program at the dental school I most wanted to attend (I was close, but didn’t make the cut), and I hope that with a master’s degree my chances of getting in will be increased. Of course, this adds another two years (at least) to my education, putting me at a minimum of six years ahead of me for a lovely ten year total. I’m having trouble getting used to this idea.
Life in the dorm rooms has been an experience. I have nothing to complain about; while classes and colleges are frustrating, the rooming situation was wonderful (in retrospect). I had 3 other roommates. Kent (focusing on biology and chemistry) is currently in China in the process of adopting a sister with his family (he was able to miss all of his final exams and take them next semester). Matt, from New York, is majoring in engineering and is really funny and studies a lot; he’s the one I found most relatable to – although I wouldn’t consider myself “close” with any of my roommates. Jace majored in psychology, and has probably made the wisest decision of all of us by choosing not to return next semester. My hat goes off to you Jace! It’s been fun hanging out with you, and I don’t want to even hear about how much fun you’re having these days not studying, doing homework, or preparing for tests. (Oh, wait, did you ever do those things?) Meals were prepared for me three times a day in the heavenly convenient cafeteria. Don’t tell my mom, but her cooking isn’t as good as the cafeteria. Actually, my mom rarely cooks – she orders out and brings it back a lot (it’s a lot more convenient). So, more specifically, I should be saying that the cafeteria’s selections of quasi-healthy chicken wraps, salads, grilled ham, and marinated chicken breasts are more palatable than Wendy’s combo meals (sorry Dave Thomas).
As you’ve probably presumed, I’m on my way home after a long semester in college. Currently, I’m typing at 35,000 feet while sipping a watered-down complimentary beverage in an attempt to dislodge a mass-produced (and inexplicably powdery) mini pretzel fragment from my throat. Flying is fun the first few times, but it gets old after a while. Since my last blog entry, nothing too surprising has happened to me. I got a new laptop (this is a big thing for me). It’s another Averatec model, and it’s a nice and cute 10-inch. It’s the Averatec 1150, and I’m extraordinarily pleased with it. More impressive (to me) is the screen, which is phenomenal – it’s clear, crisp, has a very high resolution for it’s small size, and it has a plastic coating that makes it incredibly easy to clean. Additionally, I turned 21 in September. Although I am now old enough to be able to legally purchase and consume alcoholic beverages, I have not exercised this capability while away from home (hi mom). I believe my last few entries from earlier this year mentioned my girlfriend, Angelina. I met her a little over a year ago, and we’re closer now than ever. She lives in Tennessee in a town approximately twenty minutes away from the college I go to, and she’ll be spending most of her Christmas break with her family. However, I’ve made arrangements to have her flown down to Orlando for a few days in January, so I’ll be able to see her again in a few weeks. She’s majoring in mathematics and minoring in education with the hope of becoming a math teacher. I’m jealous; I’d love to teach math! I realized this a few days ago when I wrote her a letter (we still write letters back and forth). If dental school doesn’t work out for me in the long run, and for whatever reason I decide to teach (hopefully with a doctorate degree backing me) I’d be geared-up to teach biology classes. I wouldn’t mind teaching biology, and if given the chance to do it right now for a year or two I’d love it! Wow, a real job? It’s tantalizingly enticing. However, I really enjoy teaching math. I don’t know though… [ponders]… I’m told I get really short with people when I try to teach them math, so I’m pretty sure my whole class would hate me.
If I ever had a class of my own, something I’d do in my class is something one of my professors did to me this semester – it was amazing! Ecotoxicology class taught by Dr. Wofford was a very scientific, educational, and matter-of-fact class with standard lectures and objective tests. After nine pages of multiple choice, fill in the blank, short answer, and an essay question on the final exam, Dr. Wofford posed an extra credit item. “Write a poem that pertains to a negative effect of an anthropogenic toxic chemical. It has to rhyme.” How awesome is that? I grinned so big – just the question was hilarious. With a two hour test period, I had completed the questions in 40 minutes, and spent 10 more on the poem (I studied hard for this test; I know I aced it). The poem I wrote was:
When I was a baby,
I was dropped onto my head.
But it didn’t hurt me quite as much
As eating soil with Lead.
Some ‘ol factory put it there,
They’ll probably face a fee.
But though I still twitch and blink
I aced Ecotoxicology! |
I don’t know why I think it’s such a funny poem. It’s not that amazing, but for some reason it tickled me. I did all I could to keep from laughing during the exam. I wish I’d seen the professor’s face when he read it – I wonder if he thought it was funny? Hopefully he didn’t get offended by my cockiness in the last line, and hopefully I really did ace Ecotoxicology – otherwise it’d be pretty awkward. This semester I’ll probably get A’s in all of my classes, with the exception of Immunology, which is the first class (in my 4 years) I’ve ever gotten a C in. Sucks, I know, but for some reason I just don’t care anymore. I tried. I tried hard. I really did do my best with the time and resources I had. If they used a 10 point grading scale (90-100 A) instead of a 5 point scale (95-100 A) I’d have done better, but it doesn’t matter now. If I could take it over (something I’ve never done before) I would, but since it’s only offered in the fall semester I won’t be able to. It’ll have to stay.
Staying at home after living at college is always a big chance. When people told me “home will never seem the same after you move out”, I believed them. However, I now see home differently, in a way I didn’t expect I would. I moved away, out from beneath my parents in one (small) sense. It was an illusional freedom (I think I just made up a word), but a type of freedom nonetheless. I was free to come and go as I pleased. The library and quiet rooms were always available to use to study in, regardless of the hour. At 1 AM I could go to an empty classroom, free of distractions, and do homework and memorize notes. I could wake up early, wake up late, go to bed early, go to bed late, eat what and when I wanted, and live somewhat of my own life. These are luxuries. Once I left Florida, my room was converted into a “play room” for Hannah and Leah (my younger sisters). Going to sleep early is impossible, with commotion from the girls and a perpetually-powered television that mysteriously remains on every evening sucking the communication out of my family (that’s a different rant). Sleeping in is impossible. Studying “whenever I want” is impossible. Studying “without distractions” is laughable. I don’t have a room anymore, and even though I have a place to stay I can’t go out in the living room and yell at my family for being loud (an act I have become quite accustomed to, just ask my roommates). I’m not complaining about that house; honestly I’m not. I’m thankful it’s there, and I know I always have a house to go to. My family is wonderful and I love them more than anyone. It’s just… [sigh] I guess it’s the way humans’ brains are wired at my age. When given the opportunity to live on my own or to stay as a houseguest with my parents, I choose to live on my own. I like seeing my family. I don’t like living with them. It’s a selfish thing to say, I know. Somehow, I wish things were different, but they can’t be. I have an amazing family with a nice house. I have nothing to complain about. It’s time to land this tin can. I’ll write later. Pz.
