Don't Call It A Comeback:

I've been absent from my blog for almost a month, and I'm not going to spend much time making excuses for that.  I've tried to sit down and write this entry before.  I've even got half of a draft saved with all of my completed posts.  In my first three years at Regis High School, I spoke to many seniors, and all of them gave me the impression that their lives were drastically more enjoyable and fulfilling than mine.  They always appeared to have all the time they ever needed for anything, while I was the lowly underclassmen who had to slave all day to earn his adequate grades.  Recently I have learned that I have always had a lot in common with all of those former seniors, more than I ever knew while they were still in my life.  I do recall one experience that stands out as an exception to the rest of them.  Last year, I encountered a senior who was a friend of mine, named Chris, and he seemed very tired and overworked.  When I asked him what was bothering him, he simply replied, "Will, don't ever apply to college."  Now I wish I could take his advice.  Under the Guidance system in place at my high school, the process of applying to the right colleges is an albatross, a white whale, Davey Jones' Locker, the Kraken, and every other horrifying nautical metaphor you can imagine all rolled into one terrible poop deck.  Consider this frightening process, then combine that with the six academic courses I am taking, and then you will understand approximately one third of a reasonable explanation for my long hiatus from blogging.  That hiatus is probably not over, by the way.  This is an update, not a comeback.

I have been trying to write more fiction lately.  There is an idea for a very long story rolling around in my head, and I have only found time to write a single page for it.  There are a lot of things ruling my life right now, many of which I would just like to get rid of.  I've got a good friend named Joe (I've called him G.I. Joe on this blog before, but I never call him that in real life) who says he is already fed up with senior year.  His attitude, quite frankly, is infectious.  It seems as if I am constantly being thrown into situations of which I never wanted to be a part.  For example, there is an organization at my school called the Hearn, which is an amalgam of every speech and debate division and which has been openly compared to a cult by some individuals.  (Those unnamed individuals' opinions may not necessarily be the same as those of this author, blah, blah, protect myself, blah.)  I have never tried out to be a member of the Hearn for a number of reasons.  The first is that I often get stage fright.  The second is that the Hearn consumes a lot of time and effort for all parties involved, and it requires many students to travel on weekends.  Finally, the whole thing just gives me a weird vibe that I don't like.  Well, guess what, folks?  Now I'm on the Hearn, and so is my buddy Joe.  We have been given our own duo piece by the school's admissions director, who is also in charge of the Hearn.  This is not the only thing Joe and I have in common.  Joe and I are both taking classes that we never intended to take, because Computer Graphic Arts, a class that we were both once overjoyed to be enrolled in, was canceled over the summer.  Now Joe is in a class called CSPI (Current Socio-Political Something-That-Starts-With-I), which is taught by none other than the aforementioned admissions director.  Joe has never been a part of the Hearn before, but the admissions director has gotten to know him as a teacher.  Somehow this has led me and Joe to become partners in a speech category called Duo.  Our "debut tournament," as the admissions director called it, will be on October 27th.  Joe and I really thought he was kidding until we were handed our scripts.  I almost forgot to mention the fourth reason why I never auditioned for the Hearn: I hate memorizing lines.

So, Will, if Joe got stuck in CSPI class, then what class were you unwillingly shoved into?  First of all, I'd just like to mention that one of my favorite classes this year is Psychology, which features my favorite text book ever.  I have noticed that this particular book has a habit of opening new paragraphs with a question written in italic print, which the author then proceeds to answer as if he hadn't just written the question himself but it had been asked to him.  I like this technique.  I may use it myself, and perhaps with time I will never have to use the phrase "casual observer" again.  Now, putting that digression aside, the class that I never counted on taking is called Classical Political Thought, in which we are currently reading and discussion Plato's Republic.  I tried to keep an open mind at first.  I honestly did.  I found the material interesting for a while.  Heck, I even applied it to my other classes, especially English.  But eventually something snapped inside me.  Everything about that class just gives me a headache now.  When Socrates rambles on for dozens of pages about a dead form of society that he is trying to reinvent on principles that I don't even agree with, I wish that I could have been the one to shove the hemlock down his throat.  I believe in irony, and I think that irony should be treasured by writers.  But sometimes irony treats me unkindly.  A select few of you may recall that I wrote a short story in which a college student is haunted by the ghost of Socrates.  Now I'm being haunted by hundreds of pages of the political things he had to say.  If that is not irony, then I should be ashamed that I don't know what irony is by now.  In past years, I could easily put up with classes that I didn't enjoy, because I knew that I was being forcibly subjected to them.  In Classical Political Thought, all I can think about is how in a happier reality I could be spending this time adding color to my own artwork using Photoshop or designing a new animation using Flash.  Socrates spent almost half of Republic developing a definition for justice.  Personally, I am sure that I have a perfect definition for injustice: telling a student that he will take a fun, fulfilling course like Computer Graphic Arts and then replacing it without even telling him.

There are good things going on in my life, too.  Someday, hopefully soon, I will tell you about them, but I can't do that tonight.  Right now I am bitter and tired, and so I am presently unable to do justice to anything nice or happy through my writing.  I hope you have all had a wonderful Columbus Day.

End Post.

Comments

[Aunt B.]

As the Buddha said, "Life is Suffering."

[tvindy]

In yet another round of Name That Reference, I just wanted to point out that I recognized the title to your blog post as coming from the lyrics to the theme song for the Podflix podcast.

Also, all this Plato reading could really help you when you get around to writing a sequel to your Socrates story.

[Will]

Actually, Tvindy, I have never listened to the Podflix podcast. "Don't Call it a Comeback" is a song by the band Motion City Soundtrack. Maybe that song was adapted as the theme song for that podcast, in which case your contribution to "Name That Reference" is certainly valid.

[nycusi]

I thought your angst made for a really funny post. It looks like the edge suits you.
As for classical political thought, just wait until you get to the Spanish anacho-syndicalists -- the really good stuff.
Uncle B