20 Years From Now

I'm going to be a poor, disadvantaged man with a degree in English...or so my dad likes to imply.

It's hard for me to fully please him. Ever since I was young, I've shown him my short stories and poetry and he was my number 1 fan. My dad even sent a completed story to my cousin who is an editor at Newsweek in New York, and even he said I have potential. So my dad knows of my passion in writing and there's at least something there.

I had this friend in High School, Caleb, who told my dad he is aspiring to become a doctor. My dad was amazed at his ambitions and his strong look into his future. That led him turning to me, saying: You need to find a path for yourself. You can't get anywhere in life without a passion. Your passions lie in your bike riding and spongebob. That's going to get you nowhere in life. I kept reminding him that I haven't found the right path for me yet. He always seemed to be disappointed in my apathy.

Senior year came, and I had so many options flowing through my mind. I wanted to be a music marketer, a psychologist, and a teacher. Every time I told my dad about my possibilities, he always asked why I couldn't take it one step farther. If you want to be a music marketer, you need to organize local shows. There is no jobs in teaching. You need a lot of schooling for psychology. With every opportunity I presented, he always seemed to shoot it down.

That's why one of the main reasons why I entered Bradley as an undecided major, I didn't know what I could do with myself. That all changed a couple of weeks ago when I changed my major to English/minor in Creative writing.

This all leads to the conversation last weekend in a Chinese restaurant with my mom and dad. He shot down my choice like he was the one in control of my future. Where are you going to be with that degree after college? There's no teaching jobs and you can't get money just being a writer. I was tired of just taking it all in a letting it simmer. I told him that college is an opportunity to learn what I want to learn and if I don't like what I'm learning, then there's no way in hell I'm going to keep interested. I'm sorry if that means I'm going to be a bum on the street, at least I received the opportunity to go to college. My dad always likes to bring up the future as if today isn't a real day. I don't live for 20 years from now, I live for today.

What's the point of today if it's constantly spent with our head in the unforeseeable future?

Sam

Next Year Sophomore Year Schedule

I already am stressing out looking at my planned schedule.

I have stepped up my hours from 12 hours to 16 hours. All I have to say is that I'll be taking 4 of those classes on Tuesdays. It's going to be quite a shift from my normal swing of things, but I need to prepare myself for a graduation in (hopefully) 4 years.

I have a Chemistry class (including a Lab), Non-western Civilization class, Creative Writing Class, American Lit from 1865 to present class, and 20th Century American Lit.

But first, I need to get rid of that hold that prevents me from signing up for my classes, which is utter bullshit because I already met with my Academic Counselor.

Sam

Bipolar Days

I wonder why some days I'm quiet with nothing valuable to say, but others, I am like a loaded bullet with everything foaming out of my mouth.

I have no control over the days, but I'm beginning to accept it. The days tend to be random and uncalled for what it will bring. There are days I don't want to be around anyone, and others where I need to have that social connection.

Sam

My Future

I’ve learned a lot today. No, it wasn’t just factual information spurted out by some “so-called-academic advisor, who likes to take pride in helping me credit herself into my future. It was those ‘you-should-have-known-but-realized-it-but-kind-of-late’ kind of deal.

Which leads me to my next point; I’m an official English major with a Creative Writing minor. I declared it today, and it hit me today just like brain-dead mutant walking into an immaculate slate of glass that he swore was never there in the first place. I spent my whole high school career mostly with one person, Christine Pacyk. Freshman year, she was my first teacher of High School who truly cared and valued the student perspective, while managing to (somewhat) keep order in the classroom in the subject of English. Hell, we’ve been mistaken as a son/mother relationship by her senior students due to: A) we have the same physical and facial features, and B) I was constantly asking for her guidance. Our student/ teacher, son/mother relationship kept growing through the 4 years. Her class was always the class I went to after school. I couldn’t do homework anywhere better than room 145. She was my therapist, my mentor, my supporter, my favorite teacher all 4 years. She allowed me to be her sidekick, an independent student, and a teacher who taught a senior Creative Writing class. I NEVER looked at her as a teacher, I viewed her as a mentor and a friend. I guess I stopped trying as hard during college because I didn’t find that faculty member at Bradley. I didn’t have any teacher here who cared about my personal feelings while keeping a friendly/professional relationship. No one could compare to the Pacyk treatment. Maybe my standards are set too high, or I’m not opening up enough to any faculty, but they just don’t give me the vibe Pacyk gave me.

To get back on track, that was the main reason why I chose English and Creative Writing. While I was messing around thinking: I can learn the traits of a Psychology Major; I let a whole semester and a half pass me by being an undecided major, while that option was there, tickling my nose. I’m glad I scratched that idea for the 30 seconds it took for me to realize it in my academic advisors office. I’m going to drop the ideas in my head and pursue what I have been doing since a little kid, writing. Writing stories, poems, journals, anything. Writing is my chance to be heard without worrying about judgment. A way to inject myself through that flimsy syringe I was terrified of at the doctor’s office.

I’m going to write, write, and write since that’s what I want to be when I grow up. Words.

Sam

I'M BACK, BITCHES

I've decided to revamp both my blogs! Enjoy creeping on my life.

Sam

My Words

I want you to feel my emotions from just my words.

Hold onto my words like its some sort of testament and use them as inspirtation.

Sam