Decisions

I spent a long time playing Rook in the Bean and we were near a few people vigorously studying what Andy Schroed and I had to yet. It escalated and we were, eventually, flanked then surrounded almost completely. And their sound was monstrous with brain vocab. I have two classes tomorrow. I have Modern British Lit. and I have Psych 201. I have a great, intimidating and fantastic time in Lit and a boring time in Psych - this is mostly because the intro. to Psych revolves about brain anatomy.
There is a test/exam in Psych tomorrow and, because it is a required general, a lot of people were anxious and stressed out. I found myself, after finishing the game, reading through my British Lit and enjoying it, absorbing it, savoring it and finishing it as the rest of the Bean finished studying for Psych and headed to sleep. I, at the moment, have read through the text and will decipher individual brain functions and apply ideas before I head to bed.
As a few friends bade goodnight, I exchanged some words with a certain individual who - and we all know these words - expressed that while he wanted to do well in this class that is required and not his major and, in specific brain anatomy, useless to him after he receives a passing grade, it was taking the toll out of his energy. Said energy was reserved for the classes he is taking for his major. I nodded, completely understanding his somewhat ironic situation and my heart went out to him.
But as he left and I turned back to my seat, I realized that in knowing his position, I did not completely share it. I am taking six courses this semester, three credits each, eighteen credits total.

Modern British Lit.
*Intro. Psych
*American Lit.
Adv. Film Editing
*Intro. Philosophy
Adv. Photography (* required for all undergrads)

My major is English: Writing. I am interested in Philosophy as I do acknowledge the basic questions that plague every mind that is not asleep. And every time I step into both Film and Photo, I seriously consider double majoring in English and Film or English and Photo (even though there is no Film or Photography major). Psych is, definitely, the class I am least interested in because of the foundation of brain anatomy.
I realized that I had already decided to not take the course too seriously... with some reservations. I have a semi-basic academic scholarship (strictly not a big deal) that is a blessing and a gift and an enormous help, as long as I maintain a 3.0 GPA. Otherwise, I could not care less what number is calculated and assigned to my current learning efficiency.

The first semester of last year, I took five classes and fifteen credits. Taking all but one required courses and maintained a bored B average. I was bored with the class material, finding solace only in the fact that I was suffering with the camaraderie of other students.
The next semester, I took five and a half courses. One and a half of them were required and the rest were upper level and strictly FOR ME courses (The Short Story, Broadcast Production, Heresies and Sects, Photo I). And, to put it bluntly, I frickin' thrived. I performed the bare minimum in my required courses and dived into
what I decided to take. I loved it.

I know I "should care more about my academics" in general. I've been told that my entire life. But I've also been told, for just as long, that I was going to make one hell of a medical doctor (nay, that I HAVE to make one hell of a medical doctor) and then, when that dream went to piss, that I am borderline required to attend grad school. Hear this. I am not the kind of student that can choose what he cares about. Does that, generally, make me a bad student? I'm sure the prof. who teaches the required courses doesn't appreciate it too much, but I don't know many profs who enjoy teaching required courses - I know my dad doesn't. Also, I acknowledge the fact that I still do learn much from Phil and Psych (and DID learn important things in the science courses I took and satisfied), don't get me wrong. I am, however, finite. And with a full work load, I will prioritize as I see fit. I, myself, happen to place a good conversation that stimulates such a long-winded, overdue blog than to immediately study for a general class test involving the section of brain anatomy. I attended the brief review session with the prof's TA and she, a psych major, told us repeatedly that unless you are going specifically into Bio Psychology, you will never need to use this info. She doesn't and she is a Psych major. I had thought we were finished asking when we would ever use what they tried to teach us in middle school, then high school, but it followed us here.

One last quick, beautiful part of my night.
Another friend came and touched bases with me. She works much more diligently and efficiently than I do, at all times, and I am glad that I get to see her as much as I do (which isn't that much at all, but it is when you consider schedules). And somehow in our conversation, she semi-lamented as to how she is not allowed the time or energy to take an elective, play her violin, sing in the two choirs she is in. I think it is important to say that she does not regret this fact, her decision in her life in these months, but I feel I must say, because she might feel, that she does regret this lack of freedom and wiggle room in such an energetic time of growth in a human.
"At least you'll have a job when you graduate."
Which, she knows and appreciates and acknowledges, but she assured me that, because I'm such a smart guy, that I would to. And that I would love it. And that if I didn't find one very quickly, I'd be okay.

Now... about the medulla.

What I told the stranger that was so ludicrous.

Renae gave me another marriage talk. This makes it about two and a half times now... but who's counting? The freaked out, untamed, unwhipped boyfriend. That's who.
So... um. It was actually pretty calm, the entire ordeal. We were garage sale-ing and God was happy with us because there were PUPPIES at our first stop!

... ...I think it would be necessary at this point to defend the honor of pugs. When you're looking at puppies, they are bumbling over each other and falling down, tripping on their own ears and eagerly sniffing your fingers, then licking your fingers, then sneezing. It's precious. And you fight back the urge to baby talk... well, some of us do. I don't think baby talk and puppy talk are mutually exclusive, but they may as well be. There were two cages. One of pugs and the other of... some sort of larger, fluffier pups. Personally, I'm a big fan of pugs at both the puppy and pissed off old tiny creature. It's all good. The fluffy puppies already looked like they were old and dying. Who wants a creature that's supposedly old and dying without the years of development and companionship? Weirdos. That's who. That's some cold shit, man.
Also. The fluffy ones weren't as active; they did not trip over each other to investigate the puppy talking Asian kid on the other side of the cage.

...there were puppies. I'll pick it up from there next time.

I told a stranger because it was ludicrous.

Renae gave me another marriage talk. This makes it about two and a half times now... but who's counting? The freaked out, untamed, unwhipped boyfriend. That's who.
So... um. It was actually pretty calm, the entire ordeal. We were garage sale-ing and God was happy with us because there were PUPPIES at our first stop!

...um. I'm going to try and organize my thoughts and figure this out later.
Enjoy!