So here’s an entry for you. Firstly, I feel guilty for letting my thoughts stray from the very real, very impacting affect death has on one of my friends, B. I’m not sure if she wants to be named, so B she will be known as (however obvious that is to those who know her) until she says otherwise. I’m so sorry to let myself be distracted from what I can only imagine consumes her daily life. The passing of a loved one is something I’ve never experienced. Being the twisted sort of masochist I am, I would in a very terrible way like to experience mourning some day though. I suspect I’ll regret this desire soon enough.
I got full colours on Tuesday. Too bad the school photos were last term, so the fruit of my so-called accomplishments will never be immortalised in the annual. I don’t think I really deserve full colours- I think Doc gave it to me because I’m vice captain of the chorale. Coincidentally, I don’t think I deserve that post either. As I am, I don’t believe I can ever fill or outgrow Leonard’s shoes. Anyway, I’ve had perhaps three people mention my colours. I thought I’d be recognised as someone brilliant (however false this may or may not be) once I’d so boldly displayed my merits quite literally on my sleeve. Being met with indifference was really quite crushing. The only person to in some way congratulate me was Dylan Misso, to which I extend my sincere thanks. I suppose it makes me realise something. Something about the facade we show not really counting to how much people love us. The clothes we wear don’t disguise who we are inside. Regardless of what’s on my sleeves and pockets, I’m still John Marshall to the students of Trinity College. Who John Marshall is, I really don’t know.
I’m doing exceptionally poorly, by the way. I read my report card yesterday, and, well, I’ve organised four interviews. These are what marks I can remember.
Human Biology: 76%. A.
Economics: 58ish. C.
Literature: 55%. C.
Music: 61ish. C.
Applicable: 49%. C.
Religion (lol): A.
Whoever thought I, John Marshall, would turn out to be mediocre? I certainly never saw it coming. Vainglorious visions of being qualified to study anything, even medicine if I pleased, were shattered some time in Year 11. It was only halfway through this year I realised I might not be able to study something awesome in uni. I might not even go to uni. I might have shredded my future by accident. I’m not a failure, I just suck. Somewhere along the line, I became inured to failing. It became acceptable, what I’d expect in certain tests. Somewhere along the line, I let myself down. Is it too late to pick up the pieces? I hope to God not. I’ve only got three months before the final exams, TEE, worth 50% of the year. No, it’s not too late to redeem myself. I’ve just got 103 or so days to do it.
I also made a huge realisation. The idea of equivalent exchange is bullshit. I can work my arse off to do a Religious Education assignment as the expense of an economics test and a literature long essay. Do I get rewarded for my painstaking (used correctly) sacrifice and diligence? Hell no. I get a shit economics mark and 20% off my essay. So, all I’ve given up to persist in morals amounts to nothing. I don’t need to do the work, I don’t need to pay attention, I can study other subjects as long as I’m not caught. RE’s a joke, and being the only one who believed otherwise just turned me into an object of ridicule and suffering. Therefore, screw religious education. Harr harr.
I talk to my mother like I talk to my friends. My very cultured, well-spoken friends who understand the largest majority of the words I use. I persist, foolishly, in talking to my mother dearest in this fashion, because I shouldn’t have to dumb down my english for others. Communication and conversation fails. She hazards guesses and assumes she knows what I’m talking about when roughly half the time, she has no clue. I have ordinary conversations with her and she looks confused for the most part. This is RE in conversation form. I persist in keeping to my beliefs that I’m doing myself a favour by not dumbing my diction down, but it’s at the cost of communication, so really I’m the loser here. Eventually I’ll come to Eugene’s realisation that she can be more easily manipulated if I take comfort in knowing I could out speak her, but instead choose to use a few key words to get what I want.
Let’s see, what else? Nothing much I guess. I’ve been absolutely consumed by the idea that life is meaningless, but that’s a whole other entry which I really can’t be bothered writing. Given my limited schedule (I just discovered I’ve been spelling that wrong all my life. It’s not schedual after all), , what with Taekwondo in 18 minutes, I really don’t have time to do much right now. Although it’s the third day back and I’ve already suffered through two tests, I’ve still got hours and hours of Music, Economics and Literature to do. Probably not tonight though- tonight I sleep, because ffs, if I don’t get 8+ hours, I’ll probably implode. Well, that’s my little spiel. Once again I reiterate and apologise for my possible selfishness in excluding the world, but I felt like ranting and informing a little. Naive, I know.