So

Discussion in 'Suicidal Thoughts and Feelings' started by ferrus, Dec 13, 2007.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. ferrus

    ferrus Member

    It took me a long time to post here...

    Recent conversations, fairly intense ones to boot, have caused a reappraisal of my childhood. I have for the first time systematically analysed it, rather than chipping at elements which took my fancy at the time. This is actually remarkably candid for a public forum, but I have long ceased caring about such matters. Primarily, I shall discuss the school here, other elements interwove into it.

    And what of my history hitherto. Difficult question, I have, it should be said someone sheltered parents living in a fantasy world, a self-abnegating one to boot. And they treat me as a fool, not entirely from their own desire, for I too have been somewhat negligent in my path for autonomy, but equally their utter convinction of their unimpeachable correctness fundamentally clashes with my inner convinctions. It's hard to say if they have socially retarded me, or I have done it myself, I think ultimately I have done it myself, but as a result of this I have allowed myself to become a victim of their psychological depredations more. I fear their and their attitude towards me, as I do with everyone else. I am cursedly over-sensistive to criticism, and by parity overly eager to seek praise. I cannot view myself except through the prism of other people, and their actions. An inferiority complex. And as for my future, I suspect, maybe it is grim. Many INTPs here do not 'fit in' in the labour market, I, who is bereft of many social skills am liable to fail more. But still, I love learning, and imparting knowledge. No choice but to educate, somewhere. And I need to travel, in time perhaps this will happen.

    The same self-doubts manifest them at every corner though. Eh, I have never worked out how I can be such an idiot for many things, but at the same time simultaneously be able to grasp other things at a lightning pace. It's almost as if my brain refuses to accept something till it has been registered against the whole structure, if it is not explained properly, or only half-explained, I seem incapable of remembering it. So it is that I can struggle with the simplest concepts but ascertain complex ones so long as the 'jibe' with the rest of my knowledge. Odd, very odd. Or, perhaps I am rationalising an inherent idiocy. I know not.

    I start from the beginning, 4 - my earliest memories, for the most part, are of school. I supposedly did well in the early stages, except my awful handwriting, which refused to improve despite all the castigation. My relations with my peers at this stage is blurry, though I can't imagine getting on too well with them. What mental progress I made has been lost in the mists of time, though I do remember that I learnt to read very quickly and was somewhat fascinated by the numerical system, and the patterns of numbers. Little can I say of this, earliest memories being berated by a teaching assistant for complaining too bitterly after falling over and being individually reprimanded for (this being a CoE school). Early patterns of integration and conflict with the outside world seem to be crystallising.

    Skip 3 years till I was 7. My progress at school has been slowed, oddly. I seemed unable to concentrate in class. Physical abuse from peers commonplace. I, of course, reacted and became accused of being in some manner violent or impulsive. ADD suspected. I saw an educational psychologist, who seemed to disregard the diagnosis there and class it as dyspraxia. Something that would be in many respects defining. My IQ was also measured at this time and it was ranked as 150. This, no doubt would have secured me in some sort of 'gifted' programme in the US, or so posts here have suggested but no such institution exists here. I took no further aptitude tests till secondary school, and those I did take them were not IQ tests. Now, my lack of concentration in the class was them presumed to be on account of the work set being too easy - only now, maybe in the last few days, has the very real possibility of ADD actually being there reoccurred. Indeed these labels show a great deal of congruence in respect to their symptomology - in reterospect it seems absurd that I was given absolutely no help with my concentration. I had very odd obsessions, single topics or matters in which I would learn with bizarre depth. Astronomy was one, certain fictional world were another, the entire system of road signs an example that my mother likes to instance.

    I moved from that school after it was clear the teacher there had an intense dislike of me and, more importantly such was my odium amongst my peers, visceral hatred at times, that staying there was not considered an option, especially after the teachers there had effectively given up on me. Of course despite the knowledge of 'dyspraxia', little was done to ameliorate the effects of it, in practical terms at least.

    Couple of years later (which then, seemed like an eon)... after a wasted 4th year, in which once again the teacher there seemed to have no idea how to teach me - and thus was I relegated to lower, easier work - I finally had the encounter, rather decisive, with two people, one a teacher, the other a tutor. The tutor was there to improve my work and get me to pass the 11-plus, a system still in operation in Kent, where the top 25% of students are educated separately. An exam my father did pass, but one my mother failed because she couldn't do the maths - she failed her O level in this, dramatically too, despite achieving an A in everything else, suggesting to my mind that she had rather convinced herself she could not do it. Regardless, the lessons were at times soul sucking. she was a very matronly figure, but one who did nevertheless install the importance of education and learning. The strenuous attempts at improving my handwriting especially hard. I did, but only for a little while. Only once I reached secondary school did the complaints regarding this cease, albeit flaring up with the occassional teacher. But equally I found that I was very good at maths. Indeed this teacher remarked I could be exceptional at it. My English though was the chief concern for this test. I was slow to master the grammtical forms, well reasonably so. And, on account of the limited vocabulary of my parents there was an attempt to improve my vocabulary. I remember being made to read a lot of nonsense poetry at this stage. I didn't care for it. Improving it later would become an obsession. The other teacher, in my fifth year was an extremely intelligent woman one who was I believe entitled to teach maths to undergraduate level, she did see 'potential' in me, and was one of the few in that early stage to do so, but became extremely frustrated with my 'laziness'. Once again I feel much of this could be laid on an ADD inability to concentrate. Other frustrations were being forced to engage in moronic 'special education' classes, with exercises and spelling lessons, often being dragged from the fast track maths group, much to my displeasure.

    The next year. Well, my relations with my peers had, in the first two years been poor. In that fifth year I developed a group of friends, played football, became socially somewhat normal, for the only year in my life. By the next year however this had reversed again. I can't remember why exactly. And, I remember well the one person I may have regarded as a friend 'siding with the enemy' as it were and tacitly mocking me. I'm not sure how this altered my perceptions, it certainly didn't reduce any naif attitudes on my part.

    The year was difficult. The teacher again berated me for abject indolence and lack of concentration. My dyspraxia meant that I was ranked 'H' instead of 'G' for the 11 plus, the headmistress of my school believing my inability to organise myself would mean I could not keep up with the demands of the grammar school. I also had to hand in all the work I was supposed to have done, which of course I had not. In scenes still visible today I rushed it all the weekend before. Somehow I was able to pass the 11 plus, presumably with the mark for passing being more stringent because of the headmistress's attitude to me. I passed, and there was no need for an appeal, that at least was a relief. After all that, relations were mollified a little. And that was the primary education over with. As odd as it sounds, I have little important reflections of the relationship with my parents, it did not at this time impinge upon my conscious self. For certain however, their somewhat ignorant and obtuse perspective of the world (not to mention rather narrow and blind to much of reality) was forcing itself on me. They did little to aid my struggles with motor co-ordination or even take seriously the diagnoses given, their attitude being that I should just manage. And perhaps they were right. Yet their utter blitheness to the psychological effects of what happened - this in spite of the obvious psychological damage done to my father by his troubled upbringing - I feel perhaps cost me. Moreover my interests were generally ignored or laughed off. By the age of 8-9 I had lost any sympathy from those 'in the street' where I lived and was largely alone, on what was then the 'megadrive'. Video games... which I spent inordinate hours playing till I was 17. I would play this all the time, and be left alone on it. My memories of the holidays from 8-11 certainly were almost entirely of video games - and reading the associated magazines. There was almost no push or encouragement to get me to say, read, or learn, things I would have enjoyed and which probably would have in the long run enhanced my self-confidence.

    Secondary school. Well, the last pillar of any sense of intelligence was removed as I struggled through the first couple of years. I was mistaught algebra in such a way that even today I am 'picking up the pieces' of a method that should by all rights be natural to me. The subject that I once based my self-image on being good at crumbled before me. Two years later, well, I felt as if I were in a trough. I remember well speaking to a certain guy and realising that I pretty much was either mediocre or poor at everything. This idea has haunted me since. My social life was even more hebetated, I was a pariah again. Little real work or intellectual development happened, something I was able to recover from in some subjects but not others. My 'dyspraxia' did become more systematically seen to. By a fairly insipid special needs teacher - a woman who was undoubtedly very intelligent, and slightly odd (who takes an A level in Maths and Art?) but one who seemed to promote little by way of help. I spent most of the time performing imbecile tests or learning how to touch type. By the second year I had a 'helper' who followed me around with the laptop. I broke the laptop (accidentally dropped it down a flight of stairs) and so infuriated the helper with my recalcitrance - I considered myself perfectly capable of performing these tasks that were required - that the plan was stopped. I had my indepedence. My social life was non-existent still, however the internet by this stage was just starting to claim my attention more.
     
  2. ferrus

    ferrus Member

    Only at the very end was there a 'bright light' at the end of the tunnel - two bits of work I did at the time, namely an essay on Mussolini (I was, I believe the only one who elected to do an essay for the project) and a classical civilisations essay on the differences between the moral codes of antiquity and the modern era were regarded as excellent. I had, to an extent, found a new outlet, a new area of skill to build a self-image. The only other incident of note was my bastard of a geography teacher. I finished geography altogether at 13, foolishly as it was to emerge, in favour of music. The very last geography work I did was regarded as excellent too - perhaps an error on my part, given the C I was to receive for music. My obsession became a table-top minatures game called 'Warhammer' -I would obsessively read the books, but never was able to 'build a full army' because I could not concentrate enough to paint it, despite spending hundreds on it. I did not read. I hear of people from early adolescence onwards reading, even academic books, but I was not able to. They were not around in my house - or rather some were but I could not get to them. And, more importantly, I seemed unable to concentrate enough to read them! And indeed, my circumscribed vocabulary at this time would have prevented more detailed study. The refusal of my parents to cultivate a desire to read and an educated discursive ability is something I still am bitter about. To this day, concentrating to read, or write an essay is extremely difficult for me, my brain becoming 'overloaded' with thoughts. I remember too being unable to sleep, with so many thoughts of vacuous things, such as the future releases for the Warhammer game, keeping me up all night. Often I would not sleep till 3 in the morning. I had only one friend of sorts, a very smart asperger's sufferer, however the degree of communication was, perforce, limited.

    From 14-15 I emerged from the hole I had become stuck in, slightly. Odd times, much as before but improving. Much of my free time was spent on an internet forum called 'Shining Force Central' - the husk of the once vibrant community is still there. My academic achievement was decidedly average. I was not placed in the 'fast track' maths because - yes, I was considered too disorganised. Which prevented me from taking A level further maths - a major reason why I later dropped the subject at 15, if I could not do both, at the highest level what was the point? Of course, in reflection, this was a mistake. An A level in Maths now, and I only choose not to do it very 'late in the game' would probably have given me a sense of ability I do not now have. Subjects that now I could probably take to degree level - in English, or Religious Studies for example, I only came within the top 10% of students, that is an A. And my GCSE marks did not include a single A*, difficult, true, but not impossible. Almost everyone I know received at least one, including my sister. On the brighter side though, another teacher became 'interested' in me. And an important one too - a history teacher, who was to be a mentor of mine till I left for university. Intially distrustful of my lack of organisation and indeed laziness (again), after I handed in the first work of course work he became considerably interested in me. He later considered me one of the best history students he had ever taught in his 25 years at the Grammar school. This was brief ballast for the ego, for a time. My form tutor also liked me very much - a maths teacher, for reasons I never knew, I think she saw me as being somehow 'special' and I suspect not in the most favourable manner either. I also had to learn German at this stage - indeed I had to have a special tutor for this. I scraped a B, forever confirming my dislike of learning languages from the classroom. I really can only think of learning them 'in the field'.

    Then there was the A levels. The years 16-18 were a period of great intellectual development for me, though I still did not read enough, and idled too many days away in digital solitude, despite the fact that at this stage I probably had the requisite intelligence for history books, at the very least, even if my philosophical knowledge was still rather limited. Good times - abiding memories of my history teacher and of course, the politics teacher, a muslim whose views in hindsight were reprehensible, but who was extremely smart nevertheless. In general good times, I was happy. I had no social life, which by this stage meant missing out on a good deal of late teenage revelry, but I had something approaching respect in the school and a little bit of social interaction regardless. My grades for this time were, at least in history and politics, fairly brilliant, at least within the school I was in, and I managed to win prizes. It was at this stage that I genuinely had the most secure sense of self for a long time. It would have been happier were it not for the fact that I was almost ran over, the resulting existential angst led to a good deal of disconnection from my parents.

    And so, I entered university. The summer before I became convinced that I had OCD - and indeed I may have very mild traits of this - and started speaking to people from there. Mainly two girls, whose ability in the natural sciences - one was set to take psychology at a Scottish university with biology courses, the other was set to take medicine, though the OCD she had meant she failed to receive the necessary grades and she too took psychology - led to a drastic recalibration of whether I was to consider myself intelligent or not. MSN in this summer was an obsession - my refusal to find a job during the school term meant I found it almost impossible to get a job over the summer - fortunately I have rectified that of late. Only in the aftermath of a school trip to Paris a few months before had I used MSN - the online messenger was to become a new obsession. I had used AIM with the members before, but this was for a short time and not with especial purpose. So, I befriended them both, along with a fairly stupid but psychologically odd scouser - a 24 year old living with his very ill father and his schizophrenic mother who has not worked or engage in education since he was 16 - and an Aussie girl, who was to form an important confidante, eventually - at least with what I describe next. One of these girls I become, well one might say romatically involved, but the eventual meet up in mid October, during my first year of university was, shall we say, a disaster.

    So, the summer drained out and the first year of university was a blur. On the very day I left for university I was berated by my then unwell grandfather in Coventry hospital for not working over the summer and for not becoming independent enough (the latter part, in reflection, did bear marks of truth) - which set the tone for my entire time at university. I scored 2:1s everywhere, mainly because I didn't organise myself into work properly. I still feel guilty about this - those whom I respect most on these matters really think I should get a first, but my struggle with organisation and concentration has limited the discipline needed for the very best grades. Days wasting without end, one after the other, doing, reading, nothing. Anger at the way in which the dyspraxia I had was 'ignored', treated as irrelevant or as an 'excuse' by my parents did boil occasionally. But mainly depression dominated the middle portion of the year - partially because of the aftermath of the visit, partially due to my social failings. I joined several depression forums. But it abated. My exam results were good, but not spectacular. My social life was even more wretched - not only did I have no outside communication, I was now immured in the cell that was my university hall of residence. I tried being social initially but the snubbing and mockery led me to the conclusion that the net was the best place to have something that at least was a vague substitute for a soical life. I became addicted to a forum for students. I got drunk alone when I could. A random woman from the OCD board added me - from Atlanta, Georgia. She was ridiculously talented, supposedly leaving college with a 3.9 GPA, with a major in maths. She, like others I have mentioned, came under the file of 'interesting', which is so rare unfortunately. A programmer by trade, I really couldn't feel jealous of her extraordinary intelligence, because she seemed to have even less of a life than me, and indeed she seemed to believe in matters such as history and social sciences, I was able to keep up with her intellect and often surpass it, something I doubted, but I suppose my ego was safe, for the time. I spoke to her and others for some time. By the final term I was utterly blotto once and found myself professing my love for her, as drunks do, which led to an odd series of events where I seemed to think it was impossible because she was somewhat older than me (26) and she seemed oddly interested - and indeed got drunk herself once saying something similar. And then quickly disappeared from the net, and I've only spoken 2-3 times since.

    The people from this site were largely morons and the 'debating' forum, barring a few exceptional members, was largely a travesty of intellectual discussion. However there was a guy there who spoke floridly, sometimes I found it hard to ascertain the meanings of his posts, and who was an expert poet. Given my existing neurosis regarding vocabulary - partially due to my parents' deprecation of it - this spurred me on to learn more, as I still am, and indeed was from the start of the summer after school. Another interesting member, whom I spoke to some time over Christmas that year (2005) was a girl who seemed remarkably literate, well versed in novels, and who was it would appear something of a natural scientist too. Moreover, she was a history student. Once again I spoke with her to some degree and then she promptly ignored me thereafter. The change in attitude was rather sudden.

    The summer was once again featureless, with a temporary employment posts (in catering) leavening it somewhat. I met many of the members from the OCD board (in London) and someone I had added from the aforementioned depression boards in High Wycombe, a girl from Canada who was working in Britain for sometime. An girl who had clearly been scarred by the death of her previous boyfriend in a car accident a couple of years before. The only two social events of that summer.

    The next year started out well. The housemates seemed positively friendly to begin with, and indeed they were. But still, there was one, an ENFP. He was reasonably intelligent, though he considered himself far more so than he actually was, but a good speaker of Spanish nontheless. But he has even less organisation than me (I suspect he was ADD himself), and would mess everything in the house up. My pint glasses frequently became makeshift ashtrays. But, still I had a little more of a social life, partially due to him. I drunk in pubs more, relatively. The first term was fun, learning French, doing reasonably well in the course, a fun roam around the site of the 'fireworks day' walking home drunk and being kicked out of the only house party I have ever gone to. It was soured by the fact that a girl whom I had contacted from the board the previous Christmas - a different one to the one I had previously mentioned, one who I had spoken to on the phone once, (who was somewhat of an idiot) suddenly came back after a year of blocking me and declaring that I was boring. We spoke civilly a couple of times. One night, near Christmas, I was more drunk than I had ever been before or after - I'd had the whole of a large bottle of whisky, and half a bottle of red wine (which I had downed earlier). She sauntered onto MSN and gave me abuse, I responded in kind, and she 'dared' me to phone her, I did and reciprocated the verbal abuse on the phone, with a choice of statements relating to previous events in her life that were, shall we say, indecorous. Not my proudest moment - and indeed she later declaimed that she had hated no one except I, not even the man who killed her father in a nautical accident. Spicing this up was that the aforementioned 'poetry guy' had, bizarrely met her and indeed went out with her - remembering this forum to be largely populated by whey-faced university students with little life - and she had in turn been abysmally rude to him. She rapidly attempted to contact this chap in order for him to 'do something' - his rebuttal thereof ensured a petty, juvenile, online 'flame war' about his 'cheating' that fortunately somewhat hid my misdemeanour.
     
  3. ferrus

    ferrus Member

    And so, the second term was slow, a bad night in the clubs was followed by a term in which we as a house fell out. And the land lords - the university housing services, came down on us for our untidiness. My social life retreated to naught, again. My work slipped as my concentration fell. The exams were reasonably good, but not brilliant. My parents forced me into 'work experience' with a firm of accountants over the Christmas, and some lawyers over the Easter, both of which confirmed that I would never do such a job so long as I could help it. The last term came, the exams were fine, but again not brilliant. But the last term was largely memorable for my near eviction. The housing services department had become increasingly frustrated with us. Even excepting the hellish mess which was the main grievance, there was the small matter of a drunken letter written by this guy, criticising my housemate, a recluse studying nuclear physics, for not engaging with the house, and calling him a '****' in Spanish. They were quite prepared to evict us all, and this guy was willing to pin blame on me, completely. Fortunately, on my return, I was able to use my verbal skills to negotiate my way out of the situation by simply being reasonable. I escaped, it did not help that the other guy's defence was not full. He eventually refused to clean up and was involved in several incidents which lead to his eviction, giving me something near 2 and a half months of relative peace.

    And then, the summer came, I found a temporary one, then a full time one. The full time one involved operating cabinets for the NHS. It was, fortunately, largely solitary work. My conversations online expanded, primarily from here, which shall be omitted but also with another member from TSR. An odd guy. He is Northern Irish, living in England, whose father was a surgeon and his mother a philosophy professor. He was very intelligent, although largely studying medicine he had a very great personal interest in philosophy and we communicated frequently about sundry matters, including a couple of lampoons of board members, supposedly utilising my ability for caustic speech. He too disappeared for no reason I could ascertain. I haven't spoken to him in a month and a half.

    So that is the story of my relatively short, and pretty sheltered life. Regardless, looking back systematically I do feel as if I have wasted potential I may have had, or had it wasted by those willing to deal with the dyspraxia or other symptoms assailling me. For those who don't know, dyspraxia primarily causes lack of fine or gross motor control. I cannot draw properly, write well and so on. Frustrating really, given that my sister and father are talented musicians (I don't have the dexterity to play an instrument, even if I didn't have a tin ear) and my brother is a very talented artist - my parents have cultivated this, sending him to an arts tutor, and of course they have spent a considerable sum on my sister, with her music (as they did I, which I failed miserably). I wonder - what if I had of been promoted with matters that would have benefitted me? Another thread is - why am I so socially incapable, almost like an aspbergers sufferer, but with greater awareness. Why I have I become so sociall isolate? And finally, given my lack of talent in anything else, am I in any sense especially 'intelligent'? The matter is a sore one for me due to its being perhaps the only area in which I can 'excel'. Indeed, more than that I can't imagine myself being anything in this area but 'above average' - given the vast number of extremely intelligent people I have met everywhere. Yes, I can cope with people being more intelligent than me if they also lack a social life, but alas, I am finding that this is rare. Once I reasoned that, well I have particular ability in History. But increasingly I am realising that, actually, most people who are good at other, one might presume harder, subjects who also display considerable historical ability that is not reciprocated by me. Sometimes I feel the manner in which I neglected the natural sciences was due to a deficiency on my part. Certainly the teacher who when I was 15 declared that I could study AS chemistry, and do well, but not A2, reinfoced that assumption - although recent self-study has, to my mind, challenged those assertion. Then again, I have grown mentally since then, somewhat. Other times I reflect on how awful much of the teaching was, and how incomprehensible much of the lower levels of these subjects were in comparison to the advanced levels of study which I have now dove into, which seem rather more 'coherent' in their explanations


    What the fuck am I doing with myself and who am I? A train wreck in the making it would seem. It's funny really, I'm not that intelligent or gifted - no I never did advance placements in maths, stopped when I was 16 in that particular subject, no I have always, always had good but not great grades (except in my A levels) - why?

    Because I am so damned disorganised. My neurology. Oh God, if I had an ounce of organisation I could now have studied a hard science subject or even what I am studying and be sure of finding places funded for postgraduate study.

    Instead I am without anything. No, I didn't even have the good sense to get a degree in say computer science, or programming or anything else.

    What am I to do? My social skills are dire, truely dire. Even disregarding the need for organisation, how the hell am I to progress in any career with my unpopularity and social awkwardness?

    I could teach. All advise me against that - yes, given my natural social features, but frankly it doesn't seem much worse than the other choices. The only problem is the hours - between 50-60 for most here. Well, I'd do that. But it would seem to scotch any hope of my ever being able to study part-time for a masters or even eventually a P.h.D. A goal of mine I suppose, eventually. But one I doubt I'll ever make - sure others have done it, but no one in my family, and those who have generally have been working somewhat reduced hours anyway. So, I suppose once again the truth is my potential will never be reached. A failure.

    And the system here, especially in this country is against me.

    My god, I am neurologically and socially handicapped, and my easy ride in the education system, where there were a few who actually cared about my problems is coming to an end. And they never did anything to help with this transition.

    Even the summer jobs I have had were sprinkled with my little dyspraxic and asperberger's like problems.

    What am I to do? My parents will take a dim view towards all of this. I can see myself finding it impossible to get a job or keep one. Unemployment, homelessness doesn't seem so distant a prospect. This on top of what has been a scrappy academic record, full of frustrations.

    I don't know, I have been stuck in bed all day, doing nothing but think of this. Fuck. What options do I have? Is there anyway to get sectioned? I feel I need that, any chance of my feigning insanity, or actually making myself insane with some chemical?

    I do hate myself. And most of the time I am alone. I do wonder why on earth I was born at times, why I have to go through this charade without end.

    It often feels as if all are warded away from me. Certainly, even the hope of romantic relationship at some stage of my life seems distant.

    And my life isn't even that hard really. What am I complaining about? Sigh I don't know, I need to be left alone... curl up, and die. Heh.
     
  4. pit

    pit Well-Known Member

    I can really relate to where you're coming from. I've tried some different career paths, and all have come to a dead end. I have some personality problems, too.

    Currently I work in a garden/greenhouse shop. The conditions are ideal and the coworkers are pretty nice, but I feel them noticing how slow I am at times. I'm enjoying it and tolerating it while I can, because I know I'll eventually quit or be laid off.

    I'm also trying for my Associates degree in stenography, and let me tell you, it's extremely difficult. It's the hardest work I've done. I feel like I deserve a gold medal for all the risks I've taken and this goal I'm working towards.

    I have mixed feelings about it all though. I have a lot of contempt for the walking wounded, the martyrs who work 2 or 3 jobs, go to school, and complain/brag about it to everyone. I have contempt for CEO/corporate types (but who doesn't). I have hatred for everyone who believes hard work will see them through hard times. Anyone who invests time, money, and work into this vile, stinking society, I despise.

    Because I've experienced putting my best efforts forward and not being appreciated. I know what it's like to be stabbed in the back by fuckers who act like friends. What the fuck is so majestic about this struggle, anyway? It's all for a buck. All for money.

    The only good news I'm looking forward to is coming down with a fatal disease, because I wanna kick this shit bucket as soon as possible.
     
  5. ferrus

    ferrus Member

    My thoughts entirely. It would be nice to have someone to speak to.
     
  6. pit

    pit Well-Known Member

    You can PM me anytime. Looking forward to hearing from you.
     
  7. SoulRiser

    SoulRiser Well-Known Member

    Hi. INTP, huh? So was Einstein, and he couldn't get along in school either. It was too structured and limiting. I've noticed that a lot of IN** personalities don't get along well in school. So you're definitely not alone. And there isn't anything wrong with YOU, it's the fact that the system just doesn't cater to your needs.

    You should read some of this stuff:
    http://www.school-survival.net
    http://www.johntaylorgatto.com
    http://learninfreedom.org/Nobel_hates_school.html
    http://www.scribd.com/doc/8778/Why-Intelligent-People-Tend-To-Be-Unhappy

    And you can PM me anytime as well :)
     
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.