T-Minus 24 Hours & Counting, Or Sort Of

It is the last day of freedom! This day marks the last day of complete and utter debauchery, and how shall I be spending it?

At home, writing on this blog, checking every hour or so for notifications, alternating between Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Man, I’m a wild thing (or a Wildling, GoT reference).

I’ve spent more than half of the entire summer hoping, wishing, and praying for this day to come. Call me a nerd but I really have been missing school.

Although I only have 4 subjects this semester I’ve kind of been apprehensive of my Writing for Print class.

Its not that I don’t like writing (would I have a daily blog if I didn’t), I actually enjoy it, all things considered. All things considered being; I’m extremely intimidated by my teacher and the subject itself.

Okay so last semester I had a few not so nice things to say about him. But I’ll be the first one to say, it wasn’t his fault I was “almost” failing (shush don’t tell my mother). I wasn’t passing things on time, and I had such a hard time paying attention in class. Not because I’m a rowdy student or I daze off a lot. No, I’m perfectly obedient in the classroom its almost boring. But I just couldn’t seem to retain anything I was learning, or not learning.

Back to being intimidated, I guess the intimidation also stems from the fact that I’m in irregular student in this class, and I’m much older than all of my other classmates, and I guess I sometimes feel I might be expected to perform so much better than everyone else.

The curse of being a perfectionist is that you like doing the best you can, and actually think everyone expects it of you as well, even if they don’t.

And truth be told, as much as I love to write, journalism has never been my strong suit. And I know it, and my teachers know it. Which hurts my little perfectionist ego quite a lot.

So, what’s my aim on remedying this funk towards my journalism classes?

Buckle down and do the work. That’s right, I’ve spent 2 and a half months of the summer twisting my psyche into remembering that it’s not the grade (although, it still is the grade) that matters, I don’t need to “go big or go home”, I can just do what I am capable of doing and still be mildly good at it, and not have my teachers be embarrassed of me.

Contrary to popular belief, I do care what my teachers think of me, not because I like kissing ass (excuse my French), but rather I like being seen as a student who at least tries to keep up her end of the bargain.

So T-Minus 23 hours or probably a little less(it didn’t really take an hour to write this, I’m just lazy and bad at math) till my very last first day of the semester.