By Brigid Wren
Journal Entry 57
Date: March 5, 2024
Dear Diary,
As the end of my final semester creeps closer and closer, I seem to be switching between two states of mind.
The first puts me in the beginning of High School Musical 3: Senior Year when they’re screaming “16, 16, 16,” forcing me to fathom that my university life is almost over. This, of course, led to me remembering that I want to be able to enjoy my final year and not have any regrets once I’ve graduated.
However, the second—and more prominent—state of mind is realizing that I’m dangerously close to channelling my inner Christina Yang in that one Grey’s Anatomy episode where she’s screaming, “SOMEBODY SEDATE ME,” because someone needs to do the same to me.
I wish someone would give me a pill that makes my head feel all fuzzy—the kind of fuzzy where you start staring at blank walls and see cartoon birds circling your head. At this point, it may be the only way I’m going to make it through the next few weeks.
Seriously, I’ve made it this far and have survived every semester before this one. But this year, as soon as I walked out of my first class, I would have considered shoving my head into a snowbank if Mother Nature weren’t such a raging bitch. How am I supposed to be in my seasonal depression era if she’s making winter feel like spring? To put it simply, I’m so over it.
Still, it has to be the winter blues, right? During last fall semester, I was at least able to make it to reading week before wanting to scream. I’ve done the whole ‘threatening to drop out’ thing. It’s not that I don’t like what I’m doing…well, I don’t like what I’m doing, but that’s not the point.
I might read this in a few years and roll my eyes about how dramatic 2024 Brigid was being. But right now, I don’t think I’m being dramatic. I haven’t enjoyed school since my grades stopped being about how well I can colour in the lines and started focusing on how well I can write. Why do professors care if I can spell properly? It’s not like my degree depends on spelling or anything unless I’m trying to get a journalism or an English degree…except that is what I’m doing. You would think I’d be able to remember my major after four years. Maybe I am losing it.
Anyway, I did actually have hopes going into my final semester because I’m only taking two classes. Of course, I thought this meant I’d be able to just breeze through the next few months but apparently my professors don’t seem to be on the same wavelength as me. I seem to be getting all these assignments at once, including a multi-page essay without any instructions to be found on our beloved D2L Brightspace page. If I printed out all these assignments, it could probably fill every floor of the Sheldon & Tracy Levy Student Learning Centre!
At the end of the day, the main reason I’m feeling this way is due to both my classes requiring us to work in groups at some point. Look, I’m not a heartless bitch, and people in my groups are nice, but I’m not someone who believes the ‘three musketeers’ kind of motto actually works. I’m truly a one-woman-show in that way because I know when I’m behind on an assignment, I have no one to blame but myself. But that shouldn’t give anyone the right to make me do all the group work.
The moral of this entry is that school is driving me crazy. Doing all these assignments and having to be on campus from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. has never been my thing, and now that I can see the finish line, I have even less motivation to do my work than I had the previous three years.
Maybe I should enjoy it, even if the insanity makes me want to punch holes in walls. Besides, after this semester, university is officially over for me. I’ve pushed through mental breakdowns before, so I can do it now. Or someone should just sedate me until the semester is over and wean me off before I walk the stage at graduation.
Until next time, future Brigid!
P.S. Please try to keep your shit together <3
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