Junior Year

It would appear that  I have a very serious semester ahead of me. From now on I'm really trying to take things seriously and get my act together. I only have 2 more years left in college and I really have to make it amount to something. I don't want to be like so many others who waste 4 years and have nothing to show for it when they're done. I've been laying off the drinking and partying, and really just focusing on work, gym, and giving myself time too for friends. But on top of all of that I got a job on campus. Although it is an unnecessary time contstraint, I do like that I will be making money this semester to help pay for things I want to do. 

Something I also have to deal with this semester is that my girlfriend is halfway across the globe in Sydney. Not only is there a huge distance between is, there is also the added 14 (soon to be 16) hour time difference. Its a bit difficult to deal with, but it also takes away a bit of the distraction as well from my work. There are pros and cons about it but all in all, I just miss her and it'll be an interesting 3 months until she's back. 

I'm going to keep this really short for now because there's not much to add just yet. I've only just begun the semester, and its my 3rd week on campus, but only the 2nd official week of class. Nothing has really started yet. But I am making an effort to attend all of my classes and take meaninful notes. I'll be using this again to keep track of everything. I have a presentation to do for one of my classes too later in the semester, so I may put that up here as well. And I'll also maybe share some of Emily's posts from Sydney as well.

A Little More Than Just Writing

     I've been thinking, and I want to do more than just write. I have two moleskine journals that I use, one to record my dreams, and another in which I write one good thing that happens each day. I've been very busy lately and I haven't been writing in either as much as I'd like. But even so, I want to add one more thing to my list of things to get done at least every week, and that is to draw.

     I bought myself this mini plain-paged Moleskine to sketch in, whether daily, weekly, or anything in between. I just want to start drawing again, little sketches, but not like the stupid scratches I'd make in my old mini sketchbooks. These I want to be meaningful sketches, real effort towards my artisitc ability. I've finally accepted the fact that I am a decent artist. I used to always put myself down, not just modesty but more like self degradation... Well I am good, and I want to get better, not to be professional, but I do enjoy drawing very much, and its a talent I like having as well. I'd rather not lose it to simply being out of practice.

Redemption

Looking Up From the Bottom of the Well

     I spent the entirety of my Winter recess reading many different books, some of which included The Huger Games Trilogy as well as the Night Angel Trilogy, among others. I planned on getting my mind in gear for the semester I was about to attack. Not only did I read daily, I studied, before classes even showed a hint of beginning. I studied Calculus daily, weekly, religiously; I studied almost the entire book I had, and made sure I knew everything for the class I was about to retake. I was not risking a failing grade again. 
     I got all my books together, made sure I was taking the classes I needed to. I had to go up to Stony Brook before the semester started to talk to my advisor, get approval to retake Calculus, and to talk about the fact that I was on academic probation, and if I slipped up one more time I would be getting my last warning, and after that I would be kicked to the curb. I made it a defining factor that I would never let myself go like I did in that first semester. 
     And so begun the first semester. I got back to the room that I had rearranged one more time before I left in December, and I got all my things in order. I wasn't packed and ready the night before classes like I was on that first day of the semester, but I was prepared to get my shit together. My roommate and I talked too about doing much better in this second semester than we did in the previous one. One good thing that happened immediately at the beginning of the semester was the third roommate I had, Jing, was moving out because we finally got a detriple offer. I was so happy, not only because this kid rarely ever spoke a word, but also I was going to have a room that would fit myself and Roger comfortably.(I liked Roger, he was a great kid, good friend. I still talk to him today.) 

The Gun Goes Off

     I started off attending all of my classes; I was extremely motivated towards getting As in every single one of these classes. I was attentive in every single classroom, and made sure to drink some coffee too if I had to, although it didn't really do much. I even went to my rowing practices and meetings as well. I was confident in my ability to manage my time, and I also was in love with rowing. As the semester went on, I started getting more and more reluctant to go to practice so that I could sleep, get to class feeling awake, and not rush to study and do my homework so I could get to sleep earlier. 
     I was strong in every one of my classes, except for economics. The first test I took I did very poorly. I studied very hard for this test, but I just didnt fully understand the concepts as I found out during the first midterm. I had expected to get at least an eighty score, but I ended up getting a forty-four. I was not going to have this bring me down. Luckily, the lowest grade was to be dropped, and that would be my only mistake to be made during the semester. Besides that, I got high eighties and  nineties in my other classes, especially in Philosophy and Calculus. I was really pulling my weight, and some.
     Even in my history class, which was not very intersting in the slightest, I was pulling out strong grades. My effort was paying off. In addition to my grades being mostly something to boast about, I met a few new friends that had moved into my building, and they were great. These guys helped to make my floor much more lively, and we did many things together. We created traditions each week, like Jasmine Fridays and brunch every Saturday. Things were looking up!

Fatigue Settles In

     Because I had studied so much for calculus, I didn't need to study as much for the tests as I would for economics. This was a good thing, because economics really needed the extra time. I quit rowing after the first economics midterm; I needed to focus all of myself towards my grades and forget about anything else until I had recovered and could keep my grades where they needed to be. But even with the extra time, I did even worse on the second midterm. As it turned out, this midterm was harder for everyone, but I still managed to scrape up a thirty-eight... a definite failing grade. It was even lower than my previous score, so much for one mistake. 
     Although this was making me lose my head, I realized I had three more tests to go, and I could recover from these mishaps. I had to swallow my pride and get the help I needed. So I asked more from my TAs, and even met an Economics major in my recitation who helped me study. I arranged study sessions with two friends from the class as well as with Wilson, who was one of the new students that moved into my building and who also happened to be on crew with me before and in my class. I was on my way to making the previous two failing grades almost obsolete.

Distractions

     Amidst all of this, I developed an interest for a Kristie Chen. It was alright because she wasn't even in college yet, so we mostly just talked on the phone or texted. But the texts started getting longer and longer, and as we got to know each other, I started to like her more. At the same time, I also started talking to my best friend, Emily, again. That only happened because she broke up with her boyfriend of about a year and quarter, and then she could talk to me again and just have someone to talk to. I was happy to be able talk to my best friend again, I really missed her.
     About a month into my relationship with Kristie, I had a conversation with Emily, and we talked about everything we used to do since junior year in high school. We talked about our feelings for each other that we had before and what happened subsequently after the rejection I got. To be completely honest too, this sparked up the feelings I had for her from over a year before, and I felt bad for that fact too. But then a week later Kristie started asking me questions that shouldn't have even been on her mind so early into the relationship, and I started to notice things about her that I just couldn't stand. I decided a week after that that we should break it off, and that did not go so smoothly at all. I was disintersted in anything.
     But now I mainly just talked to Emily and slowly she let me into what had happened between her and Steve to cause them to break up. But talking to her more frequently now, my feelings were only getting stronger for her. The thought on my mind was, this is the girl I want to be with, and the girl that I've wanted to be with since junior year.
     All the while my inner feelings are sorting themselves out, I'm also trying to study for my classes and lose the weight I realized was killing me. I was working out as hard as I could to drop the excess weight. Unfortunately the whole breakup situation and renewed interest pulled me away from what was important. There was an economics test coming up soon, and I really needed to get on my game for that.

Closing up the year

     I had decided to work out my feelings for Emily in the Summer when I had time for it. Now I was working mainly on my weight and my work. My third midterm in economics I was able to score an eighty-three: A  huge improvement from my last set of grades, but not quite enough. I had to do better than that;  And I did. The following midterm I was able to score a ninety-one. Now I had two good grades and one bad grade. All I needed was to do well enough on the final, and I was set.
    I spent so much time on my economics class I neglected my philosophy homework and therefore that pulled down the total grade I could have received. The final was an easy test, which I was almost late for and almost injured myself seriously getting to it. My history grades were good enough, and lukcily I didn't have the strict professor to deal with my tests and quizzes, just the TA. I put in a lot of effort to this class.
     After all of my finals I went home confident in my grades. I was expecting a minimum GPA of 3.500. I was mistaken again. My economics grade was just barely a C, enough to get me credit for the class. I got an A in Calculus, A in the useless freshmen undegraduate class, B+ in History and a B+ in Philosophy. That C dragged my GPA down to 3.03. My cumulative GPA: 2.3... Nowhere close to my goal. I needed a 4.0.. I didn't just want it, I needed it. But I sold myself short because even though I was focused, I got distracted for a short time in the middle of the semester, and I didn't seek help early enough to salvage my economics grade.
     I worked hard, but not hard enough. I made a great improvement though, and I was happy to be out of academic probation. I could take the classes I needed, but there was no way I could get into the Business School for the Fall of two thousand twelve. I needed a minimum 3.1 GPA, and that meant I needed to definitely get a minimum of a 3.9 to guarantee my entry into the school. My grades showed no real representation of my academic ability, but just that I needed to put more effort into my work. When I put my mind to something I could definitely get it done to the best it could be done, as I proved to myself with my calculus grade. 

... Next time: Falling just short of my goals and not giving my full effort to the cause...

Trials and Tribulations

A Running Start

   

     I was released into the world at the close of August in the year two thousand twelve; Freshmen year in college. Stony Brook University, New York to be exact. The first of my family to have the opportunity to receive any form of post-secondary education. I had nary the slightest of ideas what to expect; no one had any advice for me except to do my best, and be responsible for the work I have. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to face. 

     Day one and I was ready for anything; awake about an hour before my first class, bag with notebook, pens, pencils, and other stationary prepared the night before. I spent the morning showering, getting ready in something "a college student would wear", and grabbing a good breakfast, which on this campus is neither extensive nor particularly outstanding; I bought a bagel, cream cheese, and a bottle of orange juice. I figured it would last me, but I would later find out that I would be eating more than I anticipated. 

    Classes were as I would have guessed for the first week of the fall semester, many freshmen filled courses. It was all explanations of the syllabus in addition to requirements and expectations for the class in the fifteen weeks ahead of us. The first week... easy. Ended the week with a little party on the Staller Steps; lots of students, met up with high school friends I hadn't seen all summer, and other high school friends, or rather acquaintances, whom I had no intention of keeping contact with after that night. 

   In the subsequent weeks I was motivated, determined, very driven towards getting all of my work done on time, ahead of time, days ahead of any due dates or deadlines as to have adequate time to review my work to get the best possible grade, which I dreamed as being As all around. But after the first five weeks of the semester my attitude changed, and continued to change as the time went by. 

Parties, Parties, Parties.

    It being my first year in college, I was finally out of the nest. No one was there to tell me what to do or what not to do. I was completely on my own; capable of making my own decisions. What I failed to gather from this back then was that I was also fully accountable for all of the actions I took and was responsible for any of the subsequent repucussions that followed them.

     I had never heard of the term "Thirsty Thursday" until then. There were parties every Thursday night, and people were lining up all over campus to get rides to these parties. Not only Thursday night, but this was the same on Friday night and Saturday night as well. And that's where I was going; spending the allowance moneys my parents so graciously gave me to pay for taxi rides to and from parties, paying for entry to parties, sometimes even for friends as well, and pitching in to have someone buy us drinks from the 7/11 right off campus. 

    My tween stomach had never handled that much alcohol, but I must say I did so like a champ. Countless nights of drinking, getting drunk but not too drunk. It was the one thing I still credit myself for: drinking responsibly, or at least not past my own ability to manage myself. I went through many different types of alcohol over the semester, and even experienced my first blackout and my first hangover, although neither were severe nor extremely discomforting. I think I may just be lucky in that area.

     With all this partying and self gratification, I was neglecting the need to study for any of my classes, do almost any of my homework, and even just waking up in time to get to my classes. Now I never drank on weeknights, but some mondays were just too much work. But it wasn't just partying that consumed this first semester.

Row, Row, Row Your Boat

     Now, I did something I was actually pretty proud of. Not sure when exactly I decided, but I was convinced by Kevin's roommate, Dan, to join the rowing team with him. It was something I had never done before, and the first time I had ever heard of rowing was after watching The Social Network, the movie about Facebook. It seemed fun, and gave me something to do. The only downfalls: early AM practices as well as optional afternoon practices, which I attneded anyways, the time commitment of weekday practices and weekend meets, and the physical exhaustion after practices and having to deal with a full day of classes in between them. 

     I was waking up at four-thirty or five every morning during the week for indoor or outdoor practices, and rushing back after to change if I had time, grab a bite, and get to class. That graduated to not sleeping some nights before practice and then rushing to class afterwards, and was quickly followed by sleeping after practices and not attending class at all. 

     I began dedicating most of my time to rowing crew instead of what I had initially come to Stony Brook to do, get through my business degree and get solid grades every semester. My reasoning: I was damn good at rowing. My times were dropping constantly; I was constantly improving every race, every practice, and I had so much more potential in me. I found a sport I could compete in and one that made me feel good doing it. Being out on that water was like nothing else I could have experienced - rowing in a boat with a team of guys that I grew close to, and getting to see a sunrise almost every morning over calm water. There was nothing but the sounds of our  rowing and the birds, with the occasional call or two from our coaches with instructions for the next set of drills. 

Finals

     Fast forward three weeks, and I was staring right at bull, holding the red cape not out to the side, but wearing it as a straitjacket. I spent the entire semester wasting my time, drinking, partying, and rowing, instead of doing what was required of me. I barely studied, barely went to class, and was now desperately scrambling to pick up the pieces of the puzzle with the timer winding down to zero. I spend hours cramming from textbooks or writing final papers for my classes; I put no effort into any one subject, and could only cover so much so fast. 

     Even amidst all of this cramming, I still managed to distract myself by rearranging my room, watching How I Met Your Mother, trying to come up with new ways of eating, and playing a game called DragonNest. Needless to say, I retained next to nothing, and went to each of my finals with almost no knowledge of the topics I was about to be tested on. 

     The first final was Calculus, and I came out of that test feeling horribly about my performance. I could tell I had done bad, but I was naive enough to think that I had done well enough to get maybe a B or C in the class. This wasn't high school, and I was about to learn that the hard way. Next was Introduction to Business for Non-Business Majors, which went reasonably since I learned a lot of it beforehand, but I was too cocky about what I thought I knew. The rest of the finals I took are a blur, but none went any good.

     A week later after I had gotten home, I got the results back from my finals. I failed Calculus, a nice, bleeding, F, on my transcript: the first class I had ever failed in my entire life. But wait, there's more! I failed writing too. After writing those half-assed papers I rushed to finish, what could I expect but to fail. I was sure I'd get a B-, but that was a dream only I could have dreamed after the show I put on all semester. The rest of my classes came out not so great either.

My Divine Revelation

     My GPA: 1.300. I got exactly what I worked for. I was so distracted during the semester, doing anything but the work I had dedicated myself to doing at the start of the academic year. I went home knowing I was going to get ripped apart by my parents; I went home realizing I was completely responsible for everything that had happened. I wished I had my parents to yell at me to get my work done; to badger at me to remind me of the deadlines I missed on my own; to constantly remind me of what I had to do with my semester.

     I went home with the solid understanding that I, on my own, completely fucked up an entire semester of my college career, and that it would severely effect me for the rest of my college career. I was the one that didn't do the necessary work and fell behind on everything. My parents of course reminded me of this throughout the entire Winter of what I, had done. Now, it was my sole intention, my main objective, to do all that was in my power to salvage myself and pull myself out of the grave I had dug for myself. 

.... Next comes the story of Redemption. The relentless dedication towards pulling myself out of the ashes, and how I still managed to come short of everything I was working for ...

Just getting started

I'm now just starting this to mess around with a new type of blog. I think I want to maybe just gear this towards writing down my thoughts, my personal ideals and developments, and maybe just develop my writing too. Ill mostly be trying to write stories, but not necessarily on any specific topic, so this should be interesting. Bare with me as I learn and progress. I'm very excited to be writing and sharing my thoughts, whether personal or fictional.