Failing: Not as Cool as It Used to Be

The weather changed today. More than temporal, it was a grotesque change. It’s cold now. Everything is cold. In response, I’m listening to depressing music and protesting the pile of dishes in the kitchen, taking pity to their grime.

Yes. This is a “I got a bad grade” and I’m going to whine blog. I suggest you leave now.

My economics professor handed back the class’ mid-terms today. When I took the test, I left with an “Uh-oh” queazy feeling; from the moment I first set my eyes on the paper I knew I was a goner. You win some, you lose some, I guess. But I expected some grace. After all, the only different between grace and grade is a “D.” Partial credit can save a semester, man.

I suppose economists don’t believe in partial credit.


My favorite person, so far, on campus at my new school is a chinaman named William. He chose the name “William” when he came to America. I can’t pronounce his real name. He didn’t tell me to stop trying; I just don’t care for the sick look of anguish on his face when I attempt the pronunciation. He also says “Bitchin'” quite a bit which endears him to me.

William is a smart kid. I don’t want to tote the line on stereotypes; I’m sure he’d be smart whether he was a chinaman or not. But he’s bitchin’ smart. In homework, I first refer to him for answers instead of checking the back of the book.

We sit next to each other in Econ. He received his mid-term and nearly jumped out of his skin. “One hundred percent!” He high-fived me and the kid behind him. “What did you get?” I looked down at my paper which was folded and hidden from his view.

Twenty-six percent. “Not a hundred,” I replied. He smiled and nodded. He’s so damn smart, he probably ran the odds ahead of time and guessed it. I felt like a buzz-kill, so instead of focusing on myself I smiled and said “Congrats!”

Picking Up Where I…

This sounds oddly trite, but I’ve never had an F before, not in college, at least. Straight As are what got me in to Rochester! What can I do? Pick myself up and move forward, I guess.

My gut tells me I need to take full-responsibility for the grade. It’s too tempting to compare myself to people like William and say, “It’s not fair.” But it is fair. I’ve received more than a fair share of advantages. Today I feel like shit, but tomorrow I’ll pick myself up.

Here’s what I can do: 

Drop the class and try again… Remove the class from my major and declare a Pass/Fail option… Forget GPA and squeak by with a passing grade… Dress sexy and try to seduce my professor…

Any suggestions?

In high-school I failed my courses quite often. It was “cool” then. You know, to not care? Failing is, definitely, not as cool as it used to be.

Anyway, thanks for staying with me. I know I told you to leave earlier, but I was just a little down and, truth be told, a little hangry.

I’m going to make some food now. Leave me alone. I love you.

The Waiting Game #worstgameever


Get outta here. Just happen already. Let’s DO this.

Do you ever struggle with patience? I do. For many, patience is a virtue. For me, it just virtually sucks. I guess I’ve just never been very good at it.

A focus of mine, as a blogger, is to turn negative issues into positive.

I hope to leave my readers inspired and give them something tangible for their lives.

Spoiler alert: there is no lesson here, I’m just complaining. Leave while you can.

The Waiting Room of Life

Last September, I sent transfer applications to five universities all over the country. The schools span from Hawaii to New York. I thought, why not? With my wife, it’s our chance to roam.

The applications were finished. In the words I wrote, I staked my future. As an artist it was my heaviest project yet. It was the best epic I could muster.

In the end, these forms held my linguistic DNA. I put everything into them—everything but the impatient part, I guess. That was left with me to suffer, to yearn.

Narcissus & Goldmund 

I’ve been reading Hermann Hesse lately, specifically the novel Narcissus and Goldmund. Last night, I came upon a passage I quite liked—a discussion between two artists.

Be patient! I’m well aware of what it is like to have completed a piece of work that was of great personal significance. I know that empty feeling. It will pass, believe me.

This soothed my soul. I’m not exactly sure why, I submitted college applications over six months ago. My problem is patience, not art. But still, as an artist, I never confronted the emptiness I was left with after submitting these papers.

Yet another reason to hate the waiting game.

I’d appreciate any good stories or tales of impatience. Can you relate? Help me out here!

 [photo cred:]