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
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
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!”
for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Consequently, for
every terrible, forgettable day there is an amazingly wonderful
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,
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
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.
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
but I might as well collide with my metaphorical brick walls padded with
good intentions and some good memories.