First Day

*image borrowed from www.edbiado.blogspot.com

Six years experiencing first-days in college can be tiring. I wonder if Plato would have had kicked me out by this time in his academy. But then again, I'm female so it doesn't matter 'cause I wouldn't be able to step into the academy anyway. If I lived in his time, I'd be stuck learning how to be a housewife -- and perhaps learn some letters if I was lucky enough. The trouble is, that's not my kind of thing at all. The thought of being a housewife is just unimaginable for me. Me? Wearing an apron? No way! I can just imagine my friends laughing at the thought of this.

But why spend six years in school? I asked myself this question before and during enrollment. Why ask this question at this time? Because enrollment in UP is just one ticket away to hell. And perhaps hell is even just 15 minutes away. Why would anyone endure this much hardship and suffering (both emotional and yes, physical)?

The question recurred to me after a conversation I had with a couple of people this evening at Sarah's. One of the people I was drinking with asked a question. Why go to the academe when there's no money in it? You'll starve to death in just trying to publish something -- a data, a discovery, an idea.

And as I recounted the reasons in my head (I usually don't dare to speak in debates because it takes time for my brain to gather and organize thoughts and ideas), I realized why I endured college (and for so long).

Pursuit of knowledge? But of course! However I'd be pretending to be noble if I say it's the main reason why I go to school. Sadly, I'm not like my Japanese friend who took up Economics even though she's not interested in it so she can help the poor in the future.

I went to school because of the sheer pleasure of having to learn something new and sharing it. You may ask, "Is that the reason why you spent six years in college?". Of course not! I'm not a misunderstood genius. I spent six years in college because I get scared so many times that I wanted to run away. But something always pulls me back (or I get my ass kicked so I'd realize I should go back). I'm scared that I may not be cut out for this.

Wimpy much?

Anyway, I'm ranting again. I'm at odds because I don't really want to talk about myself. But then all I can really talk about is myself. It's so self-centered and it angers me. I want to be mature and knowledgeable enough to talk about things outside myself. I need to escape out of this box.

The first step in solving a problem is recognizing it. And then make "little steps" (as quoted from a wise friend) to solve it. I understand that. It seems difficult to do in practice, however.

My mom says "Be mature. Control your emotions. You're not a kid anymore". I know that. But I can't do it. Or is it I shan't do it? But why? I've been mature as a kid, but why can't I do it now when I'm supposed to be mature?

Rants, rants, rants! Blah, blah, blah. Words, words, words.

I thought I'd be able to contribute something if I write from the bottom of my heart. But these words don't translate into anything.

Period. And as always, a disoriented end.