Confused Motivation

By Jonathan Lam on 05/16/16

Tagged: the-homework-life the-homework-life-thought

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I'm a little restless again, so I decided to try another one of these.

It's beginning to get late, but I still have a substantial amount of homework. I believe that limiting the amount of time I have to do this is a good idea.

I had quite a hefty day regarding schoolwork.

During school, I met with my counselor concerning my current academic achievements and future goals leading up to college. I was in pretty good standings with that.

Later today, I went to the AP classes' informational sessions, which took up another hour of my time. I received summer work and was frightened about the mental rigor of next year, and the amount of sleep I would get, especially considering how much I get nowadays.

But there's always hope for the better: I hope I can adapt, that I can fit in whatever they throw at me. So far, it's worked. But so far, it's getting worse.

Again, I really don't know what to write. This is a bit awkward. I don't know why I'm posting this. But I have to write. Onward!

So far I've written in these two quick "journals" solely about the physical, the events that have happened in the past few days. Perhaps this is better than getting too abstract and in depth of one tiny detail, as we usually do in class; or perhaps it is too dry and boring, as a logbook. I don't really know.

I do like to explore the abstract, however. Each of my What do I have to write analytical essays this year in English have regarded human nature in some form or another: our fascination with opposites, the negative consequences of haste, the likening towards uncertainty, etc. I'm not very much a creative thinker in this regards: I've never just focused on a single character or motif, never attempted to lose myself in one detail, one moment, one droplet of what we call "life."

But do I truly have nothing to say?

I feel that in English class, everything interesting is already taken. Every attempt of mine of creative expression has already been achieved, been done better in a thousand ways. Mrs. Huminski alone could outcome all of my pieces. I feel lonely, lost, unoriginal with my writing, and this writing of the lame and boring is my attempt to make it better.

How pitiful.

And now I am just writing out some more thoughts, staring at my watch that says 9:28, numbers ticking upwards until I push the almighty button that commands them to stop. I am watching time pass painfully by, my life passing before me as I write this instead of doing my homework.

Perhaps I should return to my homework. Or perhaps not. I really don't know.

It is probably very clear of my confused mind; my confused mind is seeing clearly the reason behind this piece. But I will still write. Write, perhaps in vain, to get something out on paper. To have something tangible be the output of my mindless ramblings. To feel accomplished.

But I feel not accomplishment, but the opposite. Failure. Failure? Dr. Nuzzo said there was no such thing in a student. But I do not know what to call this, the perpetual seeking with an optimistic facade when, deep down inside, I know I cannot be the best writer. Just like I cannot be the best runner or the best bowler or the best pianist, my writing is yelling at me that I am stupid in my quest, and that this writing is getting nowhere. And the feeling is metastasizing, infecting my conscious mind with a cancerous unmotivation. Gah! Get it away!

Well, the time is almost up. I will not end this new quest, but persevere. It has worked once with previous, brief efforts: let me see what a longer continuation can accomplish.