citrakayah: (Default)
I haven't been doing that well lately. For the most part my issues are academic in origin, but I'm a college student, so that affects everything else. So when my grades suffer, or I feel like I'm not doing well or understanding the material well enough, I get depressed, I start to seclude myself... These days, it feels so hard to care about anything, and I feel powerless, useless, and flat-out stupid.

One thing I do know is that I'm not cut out for architecture. I've dropped one of my classes, ARC 242, which was a woods class. I liked that class. I liked the teacher well enough, I liked the lectures... but when it came down to it, I just wasn't capable of doing well in the class. I'm still taking Pyramid Guy 2: Electric Betelgeuse, aka ARC 232, but only because taking both classes will get me a fine art credit. Which I need.

I've also learned that when it comes down to it, I am very much a coward. Rather than deal with the possibility of humiliation, I flee. Not entirely surprising, but still a problem.

So I don't know entirely what I'm going to do. I do know that I'm transferring to zoology, and that that might help somewhat. I know that I won't be going into architecture, and that a fundamental part of my identity is gone--as fundamental as my identity as a therian, or my identity as a skeptic.

Architecture was how I justified my own existence, and how I avoided going insane from the knowledge I had. My belief was--and still is--that if we as a society are ever going to amount to anything of importance, anything that lasts, we have to broaden our horizons and be willing to work with any other sapient species in the universe. Also we'd have to avoid not wrecking our environment. In any event, we had to more or less get over our own egos and stop seeing ourselves as the center of the world.

Space--not outer space, but the environment around us--shapes how we relate to each other and the world. When I see something like Faner Hall, I see something that, in addition to looking like shit, was antithetical to the ideals I believe in.

A long time ago, I decided that that would be my mission--to design buildings that were closer to this, and attending architectural classes, I was always struck by how buildings that I considered absolutely abominations were praised. Seriously, there was constant praise for the same philosophy of design--and the same exact person--that produced this. That was what Corbu would do to Paris. Meanwhile, the terminology and phrasing used in describing designs, and design philosophy, frequently seemed overcomplicated.

But I can't do that anymore. I know that I will die. I know that everyone I love will die, and we shall all cease to exist. I also know that unless we somehow beat the odds, the universe will die. Ultimately, even if our legacy manages to survive the Sun's death, nothing will experience it. Nothing will benefit from it, nothing will look upon it and say, "This is good." We might as well have never existed.

I don't know what, ultimately, my path will be. At the rate I'm going I won't have much of a significant one, since both this and last semester I haven't done so well in class and this naturally causes crippling levels of anxiety and lack of confidence to the point where I wonder if I'm at all suited for college.

Granted, I don't have to decide for a while, and I need to focus on getting my life straightened out first, but not having certainty is... scary.
citrakayah: (Default)
This will probably not hold up to my usual standards of writing, or at least I hope it won't, because this is being written during spare moments with little review. But it's my journal; I figure I don't have to edit things to a great extent.


For me, I am almost positive sleep deprivation equals drunkedness. I base this in part on the fact that last night at eleven while half asleep I came up with a harebrained scheme involving a disposable email address. Then finally I realized that the whole thing was bloody pointless, because the whole thing was relying on a key assumption that was incorrect. And then I moped around a bit, because reading Tumblr (which I should have known better than to do, not that I did so at eleven at night) almost always hurts my head. Not because of ‘fluff levels’ or anything, because I just tune that out. Not all of it, but the kind of stuff where people don’t spell very well. Mostly that stuff doesn’t get my attention unless there’s someone going on about how they’re some super p-shifting werewolf guy. No, what hurts my head is vitriol. Vitriol makes it difficult for me to think. And vitriol does not accomplish anything constructive; it just distracts from important issues, in my opinion. Certainly that's the effect it has on me.

But I killed lots of weeds! Dandelions, to be exact. I didn’t kill them at eleven at night, I killed them in the middle of the day, but they were dead. Are dead. Whatever. Tragically, I missed the opportunity to try growing bulbs inside, because there were all planted (I forgot to set some aside).

And I completed my first real debate (the previous one being a forfeit on the part of my opponent) at debate.org, over whether science should be privatized… and so far it looks like I'm winning, now that it's in the voting period.

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Citrakāyaḥ

September 2017

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