I didn’t realize how unmotivated I am by my coursework until this very moment. I have absolutely refused to complete a 1000 word book review and an annotated bibliography and any of my readings for this week. Not because I can’t do it, but because I just don’t want to.
This isn’t depression. This isn’t anxiety. It’s just me not giving a fuck about grad school because, obviously, why should I give a fuck about grad school. This place is so alienating and I don’t understand the rules or expectations and it fosters so much self-doubt that I’m mostly debilitated.
All I’m learning is to not trust my ideas or my stories or my readiness. We are constantly reminded how not-ready we are.
But I don’t want to believe that. I don’t want to believe that I’m not already a knowledge creator, that I’m not already an articulate and valuable thinker.
I’m coming to terms with the fact that I am not a good academic. I am okay with this. Because I am a good person and that is enough for me.
And I have to acknowledge that I am here right now. This was my choice. I have to accept that this is where I am and that I need to try.
Though in a larger cosmic landscape this is just a blip, I still need to try. None of this—the pandering, the circular logic of seminars, the self-important professors— is as important as we’re making it out to be. It’s just another game. All games end.