Well That Didn't Work

THE DEATH OF MY INNER GENIUS
Of the ten class sessions I had this past week, I attended five. I'm so bored. I finished all of the work I needed to do this week on Tuesday, and spent the rest of the week desperately trying to find something to do, and someone to do it with. I hope it gets more difficult than this; I'm told it will, but only in the sense that I'll have a lot of work (30 page papers and such) to do. "Work" isn't anything. It takes time, but finding the time to do the work is the more difficult than doing the work itself.

I want to be challenged, I've never been freakin' challenged. I want to struggle to understand something. I want to have to exert effort. The work that I do, exerting minimal energy and effort, gets A's. I want to have to struggle to get a good grade. The only motivation I've ever had to do any work at all is my own passionate desire to learn.

For example, in Visual Literacy, we were assigned final presentations as opposed to a final exam. The first nine people to present did so this past Thursday. I am appalled by what the professor hails as extraordinary. I can conclude that there is no point for me to make my presentation any better than theirs, since I'll get as high a grade as I can by doing less than I could. There's a line from the movie, "The Incredibles," that I believe suits this scenario quite well: "When everyone is special, no one is."

It drives me crazy. When I complained about this in high school, my mother told me that an education is what you make of it. I can only do so much by myself. I could teach myself as much as I could about, say, chemistry, from books and the internet, but without the ability to perform experiments, how could I truly understand the material I'd read? I need someone to teach me for once.

I figured out the other day that this is why I'm getting bored with the study of government and politics, and thinking twice about majoring in it. What is comes down to is that I'm just reading. I'm memorizing information about the way the government functions, about elections, about what others have done, but there is very little analysis. I mean, I analyze what I'm learning by reguritating information and drawing a few comparisons, all of which have been made by countless others before me. Rephrasing someone else's ideas is not a challenge, nor original. I want to study something that I can use to come up with a truly original idea. If I studied physics and became a physicist, I'd be the one who discovered something revolutionary that no one else was even looking for. I know that I have more potential than this. I have a lot of potential.

The letter to no one that I posted a few days ago demanded an answer to the question, "why am I intelligent and have no passion with which to apply it?" I keep repeating that question to myself...over and over and over again. I'm looking for my calling...I'm looking for my original idea.

This is bringing me to the very edge of insanity. There is such a fine line between genius and insanity...I should erase the damn thing. I know that I'm not a genius nor a prodigy (I've always hated myself for this fact,) but maybe if I had a chance to explore my options, be encouraged to do something, I could be brilliant...I could discover my full potential and use it to do something truly extraordinary.

Having this little to do practically leaves me alone with my thoughts...I keep obsessing over this, among a handful of other things, and its starting to get to me.

I mustn't return to the woods. I refuse to.

I'm just not feeling very loved or taken care of, really. My parents love me so much that they yelled at me for asking if they'd buy the glasses I need, and while I have great friends, all of whom are willing to listen to me rant, and with whom I always have a great amount of fun, J still find myself selfishly craving attention. I'd like someone to do something nice for me. When my friend's stepfather died, I got a group of our other friends together and sent her a HUGE basket of junk-food. When another friend's grandmother died, I came to the wake. And when my mom had her most recent cancer surgery, you know what I got? Not even a phone call. The only person that was there for me was Dennis, who I barely saw for a well over month because I took on my mother's job (on top of studying for AP exams and running almost every club in the school) until she'd made a full recovery. I've made midnight ice cream runs for break-up emergencies, taken people to the hospital, done homework, cooked meals...I just wish someone would do something like that for me. There's a difference between asking someone if they're alright (and occasionally listening, which hasn't really happened either) and trying to make them feel better. Talk is cheap.

I know, that's selfish, I'm sorry. I don't do those kinds of things because I want or expect anything in return, I do them because I genuinely care. I shouldn't ask for anything. I've never had a boyfriend (or really, anyone else) who spoiled me; Dennis did some really nice things though. I didn't want him to spoil me, I told him having him was more than enough for me, I meant it...

I'd already bought Dennis his Christmas present when all of this started in October. I got him an Atari 2600 system, every accessory and almost every game ever made for it. It took me a lot of time to find it all; I spent quite a bit more money than I should have...all of the money I'd earned the last few months I'd worked at the drycleaners and most of the money I'd made babysitting over the summer. I knew he'd like it. I spoke to him today, briefly, to arrange a time when he could come over and pick up the jacket he left here a while back...I asked him if he was interested in purchasing the system from me...he was stunned and, for whatever reason (since he knows me and how well I know him,) very surprised that I knew he'd want it. He loved it.

Well, at least this way, I'll get the money I need to buy my glasses. (<-- Look at that, I've found the silver lining.)
Comments ()

Contact Me