"Maybe college isn't for me? Part 2"
This is, in no way meant to be short.
It’s not always a lazy man's statement, nor a cry for suspension of classes. Really. Honest. But I do tend to ask that question a lot. From where I'm from, which is the Philippines, college is a big deal. It almost doesn't matter where you got your degree or what your degree is- just that you have one(at least amongst the unprejudiced people around you). In family gatherings in the holidays, a common question between relatives to the young people is "Saan ka na nag aaral? Anong inaaral mo?" Which in English means "Where are you studying, what are you taking up?" Answers vary. From medical degrees, to engineering degrees and what nots. For first time encounters, it will be asked why you take up that degree as well. Like, "I'm taking up med tech coz I want to use as a premed and become a surgeon." Or "I'm taking up journalism because I want to be a writer." I remember my answer to that when asked. I studied in a university for a year, I didn't just stop because I didn’t pass the ones I wanted. I only studied there because, well, to be honest, it was the only university I passed. I had that part in my heart thinking that I do need a college degree, and even if it's not what I want, I may learn to love it. And it's required. Society requires it. Job interviews require it. Anyway, I took BS Psychology for the first year. And I remember that when I originally took up the test, I applied for AB Communication, but for one reason or another during enrollment, a dumbstruck moment hit me and I told my mom I wanted to take up BS Psychology. This was a little hectic because I only decided about Psych during my enrollment, like, as we were being ushered into the place to see whether my name was really there in the list of passers or not. Long story short: I had no immediate plan for my future as to why I took up Psych. I mean, I was always a writer. English was always my best subject, although I do still tend to have little grammatical errors here and there. I had a book published [more details on that later, depending on how successful this blog goes (:] I also had a publication in a small magazine. I was a writer, basically. Not a very good one, but a very opportunistic one. More on that later. I remember my block mates all had plans, here and there. I remember the words HR, Doctor, business, guidance counsellor. The list goes on. Psych is a very unique course because you can go into a lot of jobs in the end. Although, majority of the people I know go into Med. For a time, I thought that maybe that is what I wanted to do. It was around my Prelims, which was probably a month or so into the sem that I finally decided what I would do eventually. I wanted to become a Psychiatrist. It's basically a medical psychologist that can prescribe prescription drugs. Why that? It seemed to be the hardest because after the four years of psych, I'd have to take up a medical degree, then another four years or so for specialty. So 10 years, or at least that's how I understand it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but in a nice way. Half way to the sem, I changed my plan again. My plan now was to be child psychologist. Why a child psychologist? Well, my mom is a big fan of Criminal Minds, which, from the title focuses more on the minds of the criminals in order to catch them. Not like the typical crime show that awaits the call from the soon to be dead minor character. So it made me think a lot about psychology. And I guess I thought it was cool to work in something like that. Something that I learned about the human mind is that behavior follows a certain pattern, and it interested me in how that works. But seeing the domestic violence, the blood, the body parts being butchered it got me thinking that I guess I'd want to be the one to be able to prevent those eventual happenings. I learned in both Criminal Minds and in class that the behavior we have now can be caused by an earlier experience, probably a childhood experience. And if an abused child becomes an eventual killer, I would want to be able to prevent that, at the childhood level. I don't know. It was all in my head at the time, it seemed a fun idea to work with kids. Sometimes, kids, no one listens to them. Even me, growing up, at times, there were moments when no one would listen to me. And if there was one person to at least hear me out, I probably wouldn't be the person I am today. I guess that's the fault in our education system at times. We have schools here and there bragging about educating young minds into the future leaders of our country- blah blah blah. What I have experienced to be the fault is that some teachers fail to see that development goes beyond the classroom, beyond that lesson about cells or energy. Sometimes, only the favorites are listened to. But I guess that too is a story for another day
Going on. I guess I didn't really like my university. I didn't like it simply because it wasn't what I wanted. It's true, I had my complains, but I will admit that those were merely me finding fault at the plate I had. It's like dating some people, a really turned on person will think that a douche bag is some Prince Charming, and a really turned off person will see Prince Charming as a douche bag. It goes with the attitude, and I know all of you will say the problem is my attitude, blah blah blah. I didn't want it because I wanted something else, and you can’t fault me for wanting other things. Period. Anyways, the sem ended and I could not wait to spend time out of school. Part of me not wanting that college and my very biased heart meant that I really did not like going to school. I somehow reminisced of my elementary days wherein I would be excited to go to school. Not like this where I was forced by social convention to go to school every day. It was that sem that I first got into the Dean's List. It seemed like a big deal for me at first. And later on it really did. It told me one thing: you might just get to leave this school. With high grades, you can transfer, that's what I held on to, really. That is what pushed me to really work harder that second sem, to work harder, really. The hope of finally getting into the school that it wanted. I admit that at some point, I actually thought about staying. But… It was also that second sem that I had second thoughts about my plan. I had a subject called Political Science, and I'm not sure if I was the best student at it, but I honestly enjoyed it. I guess I enjoyed it because there were a lot of essays and I like essays. As I said, I liked writing. Along the way, my professor told me to pursue law after psych. This was very assuring for me because I had just reported a law and I honestly didn't think I did a good job at it because a) I was late, b) I had not understood the law completely. My dad, whom I consulted said that how I understood it was exactly what the law meant, but I just couldn't grasp my mind around it. So I reported, thinking it was half assed and late. But, after the class, my prof said that I should purse law afterwards. It's no secret that the Philippines have corrupted government officials. It's no secret either that anything with power, leverage, and opportunity can be abused. That was the number one reason I did not like politics. I mean, in board games, literature and video games, those things add spice to the experience. But in real life, it can cost lives. And I'm not too quick to do something like that. It's not that I don't want to be tempted, but I don't want the trouble of it. At this point, I was already preparing for my transfer. And so it made me think that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to consider it? I mean if a professor believed in me like that, maybe others would? I don't know. It was in my list of applied courses. Along with Psych and AB Comm. I had no plans whatsoever in politics, but I was ready to take up Political Science if need be. My plan, my big plan was just getting bigger and bigger. I was in a very awful place, in my perspective, and dreaming, imagining, planning about the future, how it would be better than this was just so intoxicating at times. Just thinking about that life I wanted for so long- been wanting for so long, finally being able to get things that I want. I applied for two universities, (the original two I applied for when I was in high school) regarding my transfer. And one of them I had to take an exam for. The other, I just had to maintain a grade, the higher the better. I knew I wasn't dumb, I knew that much. I knew how to manipulate people in board games. As they say, the power of suggestion is a very powerful weapon. I knew how to exploit needs with wants and desperation. I read a lot of books. I know a little bit of algebra. I know a relative history of House Stark from Game of Thrones. I know all about reptiles. I know a lot of things. Things that wouldn't even matter at times. I was, at times, like a trivia book. My dad had often, and jokingly told me that I was a repository of useless information. And I tend to agree with him, it's not like knowing that clams can change genders at a very early stage in their lives have ever saved my life. Weeks turned into months, and I was more or less sick of my university. I didn't enjoy as much. In fact, I enjoyed less and less as each day passed by. I didn't fit in well with my blockmates, maybe I was annoying? It was okay, I was annoyed at them as well. I've never really been good with people. I get annoyed when there are so many people, but I get lonely when no one’s out. Maybe it was obvious, maybe it wasn't, but I couldn't wait to leave. Part of me chose to not be that close with anyone simply because I had no plans of staying, and I didn't want to lose more friends. I promised that my last day in that school would be the last time I saw that school. It was more than just a school I didn't like. It meant more than that. That school was a memoir of my failed entrance exams. It was a memorial of my feelings of failure, my feelings of being forsaken by God, my feelings that nothing in life will ever be better, my feelings of regrets and mistakes. All those things that some would prefer to not talk about it at all. I was a little apprehensive at first, with moving because I kept thinking that maybe I'd fail again. You know the cliche, at least you tried. But that's just the thing, I'm so afraid of the answer that I was okay with a question mark. A big question mark regarding whether or not I would pass. I was satisfied, content, even knowing that maybe I'd get in. That's how bad it was for me. But I had already taken up the exam (the same exam I had taken up when I was in high school) and I was just waiting whether or not I passed or not. I was even more apprehensive because I was going to be delayed even more. In the Philippines, at least before, there are only 6 grades of elementary- I took up grade 7 because it was an option, which I guess now was a big waste of time. And now, if I were to move, I would repeat my first year. Assuming I finish in four years, I'd finish college by 22 or 23, assuming I get all my units and don't fail anything. And that's late since I knew of people finishing college at 20 or 21. Those things mattered to me. I mean, I was relatively in when it came to being in the age group in my class and I couldn't even fit in properly there. So I kept thinking that maybe transferring, getting out of this place meant that I could transfer to a place I haven't pissed off yet and maybe I could get friends? I don't know. All the beautiful things in life went spiraling in and out of me like some dream machine. Basically, I wanted out. I wanted what I had originally set my life out for. It came to a point that the two universities I had applied for didn't seem to be two different places. To me, they were manifestations of the good life. They were the entities of my dreams coming true. They were the goal I was racing to. It became one in that notion. It didn't matter which university- just that I wouldn't return to the old one. So... Summer. It went by at a relative pace. I was dreading the day to the answers whether or not it passed. The first result I was going to find out was the college where I took up an exam, two or three days later, I would find out about the other one. I already mentioned I didn’t pass both, so no surprises here. That was technically the 0-5. That was what hit the hardest.
It was one of those most assuring moments for me- it was like the only thing missing was for the planets to blink green for a go. It was one of those moments you’d just give anything away because it felt so right. I guess I was too in to fiction. Happy endings like that, they only happen in the human mind.
I remember that month being absolutely one of the worst for me. Worse than my first university days. I was at a lost. I was so angry with everything. I kept thinking about those other people who cheated their way into their universities. It was unfair. It was like the Stark family all over again. I guess I was hoping for a good thing. It’s no secret that I didn’t enjoy high school as much as I wanted to. Looking back, it was awful. I won’t go into specifics, but it was just awful. There were so many things to deal with in high school, and I guess I was hoping that in college, things would be better.
I remember going home from school one day when I was a junior, my dad had just picked me up and I was telling him a story about something that made me infuriated that day. I remember him telling me, “Don’t worry, son. They won’t succeed in college.” He said something else, but that sentence summarizes it. But hey, look at that. Those people are having better lives than me. It hurt because I held on to that every day until that day I went 0-5. I let go of that because it was a lie. I was the one who was not succeeding in college. And it felt like I was the one who was failing in life, too.
At around this time, I tried my best to live life as if nothing was wrong. I mean, there was that constant sadness looming around me whenever I was alone or when I was about to go to sleep. It wasn’t comfortable. But I learned to live with it. I had to. I couldn’t let it go, because to me, if I let go of that anger, that pain, I would let go the same part of me that strived for greatness- the same part of me that pulled those hard work moments to get high grades. The pain, after all, was caused by those things being pointless.
I remember thinking to myself that I should be enrolled by now, not this. Not this, moping about in depression.
It was around now that I and my parents tried looking into other options. There was this school in Manila, which is quite far from where I live that got my parents interested. Interested because it was almost the same school as the 0-5 mishap. This is also the school I was talking about in part 1 that might make my record 1-6 or 0-6. So, I told them no. I said that I don’t want to study anymore, even if I did. I was angry, really. I knew in my heart that even if I had passed, even if I had gotten in, it would be the same as my first university: something I didn’t want. Something I would complain about every single moment I was there, something I would find fault in every single thing. It wasn’t the school’s fault, really. And I guess I didn’t like it because there wasn’t a course there that was specific to my liking.
It came down to a lot of talk between my mom and me. I remember walking out in frustration and saying something along the lines of: Fine, I honestly don’t care anymore. I don’t care whatever you write for my courses applying for. I later asked, because, I guess, a part of me was still pretty much hoping for this. I was all apprehensive on the outside, but on the inside, secretly, deep- Marianas Trench deep, I was secretly hoping for it.
It was odd for me, because I would find out the result on my birthday. But, like the many disappointments in life, the agony of waiting is prolonged for a little more. I remember thinking to myself that no matter the result, it would be sad for me. But, I would find out the result in two days.
Waiting was the worst. Waiting for a ‘yes’ is torture. But waiting for a ‘no’ is just agony. Agony that seemed to plague my life for now.
I went 0-6 with one phone call.
I wasn’t that sad, really. In fact, I wasn’t sad at all. I didn’t want it. I didn’t mind that I didn’t pass. At this point I’ve thought a lot about life, and what I really wanted to do with it. I had decided that I didn’t want to waste my time in sadness, so not going back to college meant that. I had decided that I wouldn’t want to do something I didn’t enjoy- something that my heart just wasn’t in to. And college, at that point, wasn’t in my heart. The pursuit of finer education has led me what? Disappointment, heartache, strife, bitterness, constant conflict with my parents and those around me. I simply didn’t want any part of it anymore.
I had thought about my younger years, and it got me thinking, looking back, that what I really wanted to do was write. To be an author. I had a book published, even if it was an e-book that people I know were pretty much ‘no’ in me asking them to buy or read it. Simply because it was an e-book. You stare at your phones all day reading text messages- what’s the difference between that and an e-book? Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself.
I guess that is the whole reason I decided to blog. To write. In the hopes that it becomes something I would enjoy and find purpose in. Because going back to my book, I had only sold two copies of it. And I guess that doesn’t exactly work for one who is looking for an eventual source of income.
But, I will say this. A day after I had failed and went 0-6, I got news that I had an interview lined up for me about my transferring to that school. An interview regarding an appeal to reconsider to accept me.
*Will be continued in Part 3.
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