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[personal profile] aris_merquoni
A while back, my boyfriend forcibly reminded me how strange normals are. I was complaining halfheartedly about the muscles I'd strained during the capoiera class, which were making it hard for me to walk, and almost impossible to walk without some pain. I'd made mention of it for possibly the twentieth time, and he turned to me and asked, "Are you glad you took the class?"

Completely bewildered, I replied of course I was glad. Why would he ask such a thing?

"Well, the way you're hurting--"

I seriously couldn't comprehend what he was talking about, or what the connection was between the pain I was in and my enjoyment of the class. When I responded, "It's just pain," he was struck with a similar realization. Dancers are weird.

Well, normals are weird. Pain is a normal consequence of moving. Dancers just realize it more concretely.


Today I had to get my grades from my advisor. Well, it didn't have to be today, but I only have until the sixth to send out my internship applications, so I might as well.

There's something funny about having grades on paper in front of you. It does screwy things to your head.

Well, to me, anyway. I started reacting like I did in high school whenever I got a printout. I felt good for a while, and then I started tallying things I could do to bring up a couple of my ongoing class grades. I mean, if I do some extra work on the problem sets, and study a little more for the tests, then...

I had to slap myself. I don't want to be in high school any more. I want to learn this stuff, not regurgitate it. And I certainly don't want to be working for a grade. It's an artificial sort of incentive, and it makes me feel dirty, somehow.

Maybe it's just because I've gone a year and a half without knowing my GPA, and not caring all that much.

It's also sort of a social stigma. You're not supposed to know your GPA. If they tell you, you're not doing well.

Maybe it's just because I've been in class all day, and I'm tired.


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April 2010

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