Haitus

Yeah, I don't often blog on this. Like I should. Chalk another one up to Lii's crippling laziness. Last time I checked, sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, too.

All right. Since this is a blog for anything, here goes anything.

I am a college student. This much is obvious. College students nowadays have a lot more to worry about than they used to. This is not my excuse for what happened.

What happened? I failed two of my four classes this semester. Granted, they were my least-favorite classes, and the least-applicable to the degree I was aiming for, but nonetheless it is unacceptable for me to half-ass - much less fail - any of my classes. My parents are pissed, and righteously so: I wasted at least two hundred of their dollars. Not mine, theirs.

I've been wondering if I should quit the community college, move out on my own, find a full-time job, and start trying to build my life up from ground zero. Heaven knows that ought convince me to kick things into gear. But now I'm not really sure it would.

You see, I am the laziest person that I know of. Of all the bad stuff going on in my life, maybe 90% of it is my own fault. I know this, and I realized this a long time ago. It is only recently that I accepted it as the truth. I for the longest time performed lipservice to my parents and pretended to accept it, but when I entered college I realized that I was now in the driver's seat and the car was spinning wildly out of control. And yet I didn't care.

Come second semester of college and, pretty much made arrogant by my success at flubbing first semester, I got even lazier than usual. I devoted minimal time to the classes that vexed me and focused on the things that should have been "treats" as my mom puts it. My drawing. Posting on deviantART. Watching shows that will probably be there when I'm through with all of this. This is ultimately what ruined me.

Now I'll be perfectly frank: I flat-out hated my Anatomy class. Basically, the class is called "Survey of Human Anatomy and Physiology". AKA the science version of an anatomy class. It was basically biology 2.0. And I loathed it. I hated the class, I hated every second of the labs and lectures, I hated the textbook, I hated the material, and I hated that I had to take it at all. And the thing is, the class would not have transferred to the private school that I want to attend. It was entirely pointless for me to take it. I will say that my mom told me to tough it out and to not quit, because it would show the academy people that I was devoted. Do or die time came, and I chose to faceplant. I told myself that it wouldn't matter, that the class wouldn't have counted as transferable credit. But the thing is, it does matter. It dragged my GPA down from above a 3 to the 2 range. It wasted a boatload of my parent's money. And it wasted my time. I could have been devoting my time and energy to something that would transfer, had I had the courage to tell my mother, "No, I'm picking my classes, and three out of the four are work-work classes." or "No, I won't do well in this. I can't bring myself to even try." Both would have been the truth to some degree.

The other gaping void was for a basic Marketing class. This was entirely my own fault. It was an online course, which I abhor, and I completely forgot about it. I half-assed everything for it. And I failed it, as I ought to have. I'm willing to retake it as long as it's not online again. I hate online classes, and I hate that I have to even take any. For some people they're livesavers, convenient in a world that's so fast-paced and all that. For me, they're a pain in the ass. I can't do online classes, I utterly fail at them. I should have put more time and effort into this one, because for my art degree I need a Marketing class. It would have transferred. But I fucked up big time, and now I have to retake it.

God, I hate this. I hate that once I'm given the reins to almost anything, I screw it up. It is completely my fault, there's no Lifetime Movie-esque story behind my problems. I brought it all on myself by not caring and being utterly lazy. I hate the fact that no matter what I do, I cause pain to everyone around me, not just myself. I can't seem to do anything right, and my parents claim they haven't given up hope, but it all depends on me pulling it all together.

But I can't. I just can't. I can't even make myself fucking pull it all together just to do the stuff needed to get a job that's basically my hobby, but glorified. As much as I want to be a cartoonist, I can't make myself try to even get there. Which makes me wonder what I'm doing at all. Why try when I can't even put my heart into my own dream? Which makes me wonder if it's really my dream at all.

No, I'm not depressed. I'm not even close to thinking of killing myself. Don't call the nuthouse on my account. I'm not a danger to myself. But these questions have been rattling around in my head since senior year, when I realized that my stay in LALAland was nearing its end.

I'm not a Mercedes Lackey heroine. I'm not the strong type of woman that people idolize. I am ashamed to admit that my parents constantly tell me stories of people "less endowed" than myself doing things that I have yet to achieve. My mother is constantly reminding me that I have the highest standardized test scores of the family, which apparently means that I'm a fucking brilliant speshul little snowflake. And yet my "less endowed" cousins are beating my ass at things that should come easy for me. I am told amazing rags-to-riches stories every day and am reminded that while I may have the equipment, I'm incapable of doing anything with it or even getting inspired to use it at all. Those stories have the opposite effect of inspiring me to do better, and I hate that. I hate that I fail at everything, and I even fail at trying. I hate that I'm lazy and don't care enough to do anything about it. I hate that I screw things up without trying. And I hate that no matter what I do, I always manage to screw things up for everyone else. I hate that real life is crushing me and I'm not even putting up a fight. I have a part-time job right now and I'm failing at it. It's fucking stocking shoes for a chain retailer, and I can't even fucking do that right. I'm pretty sure my boss hates me right now, because I'm probably her worst hire ever; she probably regrets calling me back for a second interview.

So basically, my life is a smoldering mess. I'm not even sure I can get myself out of this hole I've dug for myself. I'm not even sure I deserve to.

But the final word is this: I'm going on a complete hiatus. I'm not going to be active on anything. I apologize to anyone who reads this blog for the hell of it, I apologize to the people I owe requested artworks to, and I apologize to my friends whom I am hurting with my laziness. I don't deserve you wonderful people. You honestly make my day with the littlest things. Words can't even describe how uplifting every little thing you write, respond to, and do for me, and I know I'll never be able to repay you all. If you are mad at me for this, I don't blame you. I deserve it. I'll try and make it up to you, but if I don't and you decide to punish me by never speaking to me again, I don't blame you.

The thing is, all requests from DA are sketched saved one, and I'm probably not going to be able to do much besides what I've already gotten done. I was planning on doing a ginormous sketchdump by the end of the month but I've already deemed that probably not going to happen. I'll let you all know when things are going to start picking up again, and if things don't pick up, I'll let you all know that too. I'm not sure what's going to happen now, and I'm not sure what I'm going to do. It's probably not going to be to my liking, but then again I'm a spoiled rotten brat who doesn't deserve to get anything to her liking anymore. My free-ride time is up, and I've got to pay the ferryman.

I won't ask for any well-wishes. I won't ask for you all to forgive me. I won't ask for pity, sympathy, or anything. Just please accept my apologies for this hiatus, for my screwing up constantly, for everything. I am so, so very sorry.