So i'm sat here in my pants, (as is my want. Its feckin warm, lads) and not for the first time over the course of the last few months, I find myself thinking "what is the point of all this?" Now, dont worry, I dont mean in any kind of deep, exsistential 'what is the meaning of life' way, I mean what's the point of me doing any of this university stuff here in Italy? Nothing I have done since I got here has anything at all to do with the degree i'm supposed to be working towards. I've sat in class rooms listening to lecturers waffle on about Fredrick Douglas and Lawrence Sterne. Huck Finn, W.B Yeats, Salman Rushdie and Ghana after colonial rule. Why? Apart from the obvious 'you picked those classes, Adam' reasons. The only reason I picked those classes was because they were taught in English. And a good thing too, because the English to Italian translation class i've been doing is like expecting a 94 year old woman in a wheel chair to become a Parkour champion. This year for me academically has been a complete waste of time if i'm honest. Yes, its partly to do with my lazy, irresponsible attitude towards things I dont like but its also due to the fact that apart from (failing) to learn to speak and understand Italian, nothing i was to do here had any significance at all. My degree, for all its worth, which isnt much I must admit, is Celtic Civilisation. I enjoyed doin that stuff for the most part in the first 2 years of uni. It was fun and engaging.
I didnt apply to college with any aspirations for academic glory. I did it because it was something to do. An idea I had that would both allow me to persue something I thought might be interesting and give me the chance of getting out on my own away from the pit that is Roscrea. Hooray, I thought. Midway through my 2nd year of uni I began thinking that perhaps I could make more of this further education lark. Well, I can state with almost certainty now, that is no longer the case. Erasmus has been hugely beneficial for me from a personal stand point. My self awareness has grown, meeting people from all over the globe has been educational, living in a forign culture and all that jazz has been a great experience. Academicaly though, as I have said, basically pointless. I'll never again have to wonder what so and so is trying to say in some part of some book I'd never even heard of. I dont care if Gulliver's travels is a political satire of 18th century life. Tell me, why would I need to know that Milan is pronounced Millin in Shakespear's 'The Tempest'? How is any of what I have done these last several months going to be useful to me in an exam or essay based on why Cú Chulainn is such a badass? Hmm? What the hell was the point in me spending 9 months in university that has zero, nothing, utter fuck all to do with what i've done the last two years and what I am meant to do for 1 more year? And why is it seen as a such a privilige?
I suppose i'm just having a whinge cus I'm just not arsed with this anymore. A couple of the classes i've done were interesting and entertaining (Something I look for) but the others bored me to tears. I dont think i was cut out for this lark at all. I enjoyed it back in Ireland cus it was fun, but I dont take it seriously enough. I feel guilty for complaining in a way since the students here have to fight for Erasmus places, and can only go if they can afford it. I was lucky financially and feel bad for whinging about how shitty the uni is here. I was pretty much told though that I HAD to go on Erasmus. Basically I HAD to go to Italy. I would've had to fight for a place in either Wales or Scotland I guess; but compared to Italy, why would I? It was either work in Italy for 3 months and pay your own way, I was told, or go to Uni. Which is kind of unfair since it says in the damn handbook that you must take courses in your degree subjects while abroad. Hey, guess what? I couldnt. They dont do my dgree subject in this country. So as much as I have enjoyed the personal experience and am very greatful for the opportunity, after 2 years of enjoying university more and more, I'm now sick to death of pointless bullshit, boredom and ridiculous bureaucracy.
I should be studying right now. In fact, I should've been studying for months, but I didnt. I'm a lazy, sick of it all, not bothered, whingy butthole. And I dont actually care! lol. I honestly dont care. How dumb is that? I'm going home to a country with zero jobs, i'll have fuck all money, i'm 28 in a couple weeks and I actually dont give a shit. The ONLY thing that is making me feel guilty is that a lovely family chose me to help out financially. I dont really care that I might not get to finish my degree. That I might have to payback a loan or two. That to me says that I shouldnt and probebly dont deserve to be in University. If I was a lot younger, you could chalk this down to me be immature and childish. Rebelling for the sake of it. And perhaps, that might be somewhat true. But I think im old enough to realise that if this is my attitude, then why should I force myself to continue to do something that clearly, I dont want to do. There are ofcourse things that one HAS to do, regardless of how they feel. They HAVE to shower. They HAVE to obey laws. They HAVE to keep their wobbly bits hidden from view while around small children. But why should we have to do things that have no significance? That bore us to tears and stress us out so much that we get ulcers and wind up making us miserable, lonely worker ants who inevitably explode in a fit of rage? (be it inwardly or the much more fun to watch outwardly)
I didnt particularly write this waffle so people could read it. This kind of rant/stream of conciousness is more a way of voicing my own internal viewpoints I guess. I find its better to write shit down rather than have it fester inside. Also, by doing it this way, you dont have to worry about people telling you to shut up, or pretending to listen haha.
See, I can write pages of this bollox without any problems at all. Why have I had so much trouble in doing stuff this year that I was SUPPOSED to do? Boggles my mind.
