First-Year Student Journals : Kristin : Journal 2

Kristin's miniature straw box that looks like the White House

Kristin wears her sunglasses while hanging out on campus

Kristin | Profile | Reflections | Journals: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Belief is volitional consent. I think therefore I am. I think I am going to die of intellectual over-stimulation. Dear God, when will this stuff ever make sense? Oh yeah, my library books were due today. Oh well, maybe I’ll have time to turn them in tomorrow. It’s 2 a.m. and I have been sitting here studying for five hours and it feels like I have accomplished nothing.

Like high school, there are good days and bad days at college. The only difference is that the bad days are much longer and the good days are much wilder. Some days, I have slammed into that metaphorical brick wall with the full force of my being at about 20 mph. There have been moments when I have persisted and persisted until my nerves were shot and only managed to read and sufficiently understand two pages of my philosophy readings in two hours.

On these “bad days” other strange things also happen. I lose my floppy disks, stub my toes while running, all the treadmills at Gregory gym are occupied and the late-night snack bar fare fails to suit. It can seem like the forces of the entire universe are lining themselves up to assail poor little Kristin. All I can keep telling myself is, “You’ve got to keep pushing” and “Philosophers do not know how to write. I could make my point better than this!”

Yet, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Consequently, for every terrible, forgettable day there is an amazingly wonderful day. Like Archimedes, I have my “Eureka!” moments. Unlike Archimedes, I do not run through the streets naked after understanding things for the first time, but I believe I can empathize with his joy.

Every time I understand one sentence of Descartes or make a really good point in my RTF discussion section, I have some hope that I can make it through this year. It bolsters my will to continue. Also I feel great when I start to make connections between the material I learn in class and my pre-existing knowledge. I tend to think in abstractions, so I get very excited when I contemplate the similarity between words like definition and infinite. Yes, I’m weird, but this kind of stuff can occupy me for hours and makes me very happy. Despite my occasional complaints about being mentally over-stimulated, I admit that I would rather be on mental overhaul and happy than be stupid and bored.

Random acts of silliness also have their place in my good days. This Saturday, the enormously fun citizens of Whitis Court (where I live) assembled a muddy slip-n-side. I had a great time making an idiot of myself, getting dirty and acting like I was five years old. My slip-n-slide adventure reinforced something I have known for a while, “A good giggle will never hurt anyone, even if her rhetoric paper needs to be finished.”

I advocate procrastination in moderation if it is necessary to maintain sanity. Going to class is useless if one is having a psychological breakdown. Minds are like sponges. They reach a saturation point and need to be squeezed out and dried in order to soak up more information.

Most days, however, fall between these two extremes. My days are a constant game of self-evaluative give-and-take. I understand a lecture in one class. I feel like an idiot in another class. Likewise, I have finished some assignments on time and just couldn’t summon the mental stamina to read anymore for another class that meets next day. I have been told this is natural and expectable, but I have felt guilty about it. In my guilt, I have rationalized that as long as I am putting forth my best, my best is all I can give. Yes, this sounds sappy, but I might as well collide with my metaphorical brick walls padded with good intentions and some good memories.



	Kristin \| Profile \| Reflections \| Journals: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Home
	Belief is volitional consent. I think therefore I am. I think I am going to die of intellectual over-stimulation. Dear God, when will this stuff ever make sense? Oh yeah, my library books were due today. Oh well, maybe I’ll have time to turn them in tomorrow. It’s 2 a.m. and I have been sitting here studying for five hours and it feels like I have accomplished nothing. Like high school, there are good days and bad days at college. The only difference is that the bad days are much longer and the good days are much wilder. Some days, I have slammed into that metaphorical brick wall with the full force of my being at about 20 mph. There have been moments when I have persisted and persisted until my nerves were shot and only managed to read and sufficiently understand two pages of my philosophy readings in two hours. On these “bad days” other strange things also happen. I lose my floppy disks, stub my toes while running, all the treadmills at Gregory gym are occupied and the late-night snack bar fare fails to suit. It can seem like the forces of the entire universe are lining themselves up to assail poor little Kristin. All I can keep telling myself is, “You’ve got to keep pushing” and “Philosophers do not know how to write. I could make my point better than this!” Yet, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Consequently, for every terrible, forgettable day there is an amazingly wonderful day. Like Archimedes, I have my “Eureka!” moments. Unlike Archimedes, I do not run through the streets naked after understanding things for the first time, but I believe I can empathize with his joy. Every time I understand one sentence of Descartes or make a really good point in my RTF discussion section, I have some hope that I can make it through this year. It bolsters my will to continue. Also I feel great when I start to make connections between the material I learn in class and my pre-existing knowledge. I tend to think in abstractions, so I get very excited when I contemplate the similarity between words like definition and infinite. Yes, I’m weird, but this kind of stuff can occupy me for hours and makes me very happy. Despite my occasional complaints about being mentally over-stimulated, I admit that I would rather be on mental overhaul and happy than be stupid and bored. Random acts of silliness also have their place in my good days. This Saturday, the enormously fun citizens of Whitis Court (where I live) assembled a muddy slip-n-side. I had a great time making an idiot of myself, getting dirty and acting like I was five years old. My slip-n-slide adventure reinforced something I have known for a while, “A good giggle will never hurt anyone, even if her rhetoric paper needs to be finished.” I advocate procrastination in moderation if it is necessary to maintain sanity. Going to class is useless if one is having a psychological breakdown. Minds are like sponges. They reach a saturation point and need to be squeezed out and dried in order to soak up more information. Most days, however, fall between these two extremes. My days are a constant game of self-evaluative give-and-take. I understand a lecture in one class. I feel like an idiot in another class. Likewise, I have finished some assignments on time and just couldn’t summon the mental stamina to read anymore for another class that meets next day. I have been told this is natural and expectable, but I have felt guilty about it. In my guilt, I have rationalized that as long as I am putting forth my best, my best is all I can give. Yes, this sounds sappy, but I might as well collide with my metaphorical brick walls padded with good intentions and some good memories.