I cannot register at Concordia until Monday. This causes problems for a few reasons. Namely, anxiety. Guys, I can't sleep. I'm not even joking. For the past two days I have wanted to throw a brick at my wall because all the classes I want to take are full. I have made a mock schedule and it causes me anxiety to rearrange it. It causes me anxiety to think of all the other people who are registering right now and taking up spots in the classes that I don't want to take but will have to take because the other ones are full. If I have to read Joy Kogawa's Obasan again I will drop out of college immediately.
The reason I took so long to start the registration process at Concordia was because I was waiting to hear from UBC which only sent my acceptance on May 14. Then Laura came and I was distracted. Then I called Concordia and they only scheduled my academic advising session for June 14.
Making a schedule is really hard. I think I must've been concussed when I decided to major in Creative Writing. Probably I should have looked at the degree requirements and the classes and maybe talked to an advisor about this stuff, but I didn't, I applied 2 days before the deadline and then through word of mouth I heard that it was a really good program, and still I didn't look at the courses and now I'm here in this spot, confused because I just want to write stories and I don't want to read Margaret Atwood and I don't want to study 18th century drama. I feel like maybe I should've known that Creative Writing is actually English Literature in Disguise with Four Creative Writing Classes to Throw You Off.
Sometimes I think I'm stupid. Not stupid like, 'I can't solve this math problem', but stupid like there's something that I'm missing. There's something about my life that I don't understand, that I don't get, when I finally do get it I'll have this "ooooohhhh" moment where everything makes sense and I can live my life better, but then I think that maybe there is no moment of revelation and as soon as I stop being so naive and realize that this is it, there is nothing else to "get", then I can come to terms with the fact that Modern Poetry in English is full and I can get on with my life.
But I can't stop thinking that maybe it will open up.
I think I just care a lot, you know? "I just want life in every word, to the extent that it's absurd" (and if this was an academic essay I would probs do some MLA shit right here, like, "Gibbard, Clark Gable", or something). Anyways. The point is that sometimes life is hard! And confusing! And no one wants to help you! And I want all of it, all of life. And you think one thing but it's really another thing and you feel cheated and upset, but maybe 17th Century Prose & Poetry is not as bad as it sounds (who am I kidding? It probably is) (but life goes on) (is what I'm trying to say).