when i was in high school, i took ap lit and comp. i loved every day of it. i was good at it. we had a thick book full of essays called the norton reader that was the bane of everybody's existence.
everybody's except mine, that is. i loved that book. i loved reading the formative ideas of important philosophers. i loved marking the pages up. and i loved writing analytical essays. we were expected to complete a 5-7 page reading journal on each essay. i was fast. a 5-7 page paper? easy. give me thirty minutes, no problem. A. done. next, please.
writing was my thing, everybody knew that. i loved it, and it was easy. i declared my major as english, looking forward to a future of spitting papers out effortlessly and seeing A after A on the top of my papers for the rest of my student life.
fast forward two years and three changes of my major. before spring semester, i hadn't written an analytical paper since english 251 my freshman semester of college. i just finished a six page midterm paper on plato's the republic. it took four hours, and i still need to proof-read it, probably twice. it's due at midnight and i'm tired of it. and now i get to write a four-page paper on the iliad and the epic of gilgamesh and oedipus the king.
i'm frustrated. i'm frustrated because i used to be so good at writing and now i struggle with it. i'm frustrated because i had a talent and it doesn't come naturally to me anymore. i'm frustrated because i really, really want an A in this class, but i just don't feel like my brain is wired to read and analyze books anymore. and i'm frustrated because i'm only 19 years old but i feel like i have sacrificed part of my potential.
i used to write in my journal unceasingly. literally. i was glued to my journal. now, i write in my journal once or twice a week. my entries aren't funny, entertaining, insightful, or cunning. they're (brief) summaries of what has happened to me and how i have responded to it. writing a blog post makes my brain work. writing an email feels like it will make my brain explode.
i know that trying new things out is part of growing up. but i wish i hadn't wasted my time doing things that i thought would make me happy. i have strong feelings towards mentally challenged people. working with them at some point in my life would be incredibly fulfilling and i hope to have that opportunity. but right now, at this point in my life, i wish i hadn't spent my time learning about how to be a teacher. i wish i had been spending my time learning how to be taught, how to learn. i feel like i am having to learn all over again what i want in life. i feel like i am having to relearn how to study, how to push myself, how to focus, how to write.
i don't like it.
my journal last week. since my brain doesn't work.
everybody's except mine, that is. i loved that book. i loved reading the formative ideas of important philosophers. i loved marking the pages up. and i loved writing analytical essays. we were expected to complete a 5-7 page reading journal on each essay. i was fast. a 5-7 page paper? easy. give me thirty minutes, no problem. A. done. next, please.
writing was my thing, everybody knew that. i loved it, and it was easy. i declared my major as english, looking forward to a future of spitting papers out effortlessly and seeing A after A on the top of my papers for the rest of my student life.
fast forward two years and three changes of my major. before spring semester, i hadn't written an analytical paper since english 251 my freshman semester of college. i just finished a six page midterm paper on plato's the republic. it took four hours, and i still need to proof-read it, probably twice. it's due at midnight and i'm tired of it. and now i get to write a four-page paper on the iliad and the epic of gilgamesh and oedipus the king.
i'm frustrated. i'm frustrated because i used to be so good at writing and now i struggle with it. i'm frustrated because i had a talent and it doesn't come naturally to me anymore. i'm frustrated because i really, really want an A in this class, but i just don't feel like my brain is wired to read and analyze books anymore. and i'm frustrated because i'm only 19 years old but i feel like i have sacrificed part of my potential.
i used to write in my journal unceasingly. literally. i was glued to my journal. now, i write in my journal once or twice a week. my entries aren't funny, entertaining, insightful, or cunning. they're (brief) summaries of what has happened to me and how i have responded to it. writing a blog post makes my brain work. writing an email feels like it will make my brain explode.
i know that trying new things out is part of growing up. but i wish i hadn't wasted my time doing things that i thought would make me happy. i have strong feelings towards mentally challenged people. working with them at some point in my life would be incredibly fulfilling and i hope to have that opportunity. but right now, at this point in my life, i wish i hadn't spent my time learning about how to be a teacher. i wish i had been spending my time learning how to be taught, how to learn. i feel like i am having to learn all over again what i want in life. i feel like i am having to relearn how to study, how to push myself, how to focus, how to write.
i don't like it.
my journal last week. since my brain doesn't work.
.... AP language and comp. Not lit. Silly girl. :)
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