If I could think of a good title for my thoughts today, I would be the best writer I know.
I know even as I write this that tomorrow I will regret shirking my scholarly duties to do so. But I can’t help myself. I feel restless. I can’t sit still. It has been some time since I have written anything that truly divulges the more dark and brooding side of my nature, which means this post will be poorly expressed and melodramatic, so by all means quit reading.
I haven't slept well since I returned from my travels. To be fair, I never sleep well, but lately it has been worse than usual. If I do manage to fall asleep in a reasonable amount of time, it's always cut short, frequently by the alarm, telling me the small window I've allowed myself for sleep has ended. But seemingly equally often, I am startled awake by the vivid dreams that I seem to always have.
I have thought too much lately and slept too little. That statement describes my situation far more precisely than I intended, and at the same time, it’s so far from the truth I, that I am tempted to delete it.
I have found myself in many similar paradoxical situations lately. I feel as if I float at the edge of understanding everything, but right as I grasp it, everything seems to slide away. I sometimes feel that if I truly figure out the German language, I will know everything. It startles me a bit to discover that this is true, but only in the capacity that I will have mastered the key to knowing everything I that need to know in my foreseeable future.
Some days I feel so fortunate that English is my native language. I can command it with a fluency and expertise that comes only from having spoken it for twenty years. At the same time it bothers me, because the fact that English is my mother tongue also means that I waited until 8th grade to even think about learning a second language, because it isn’t necessary, or even encouraged for most career fields. It saddens me to think of how much I would know now if I had started younger. A little bit of that mindset has stayed with me, too, because I know that in most cases here, if I say a word in English, everyone will understand, so there’s less drive to actually learn it properly.
After picking up Russian, I have also thought excessively, almost obsessively about how I think, and why it seems to adapt itself to language so readily. Which first involves figuring out my method of thinking. My thoughts come to me in the form of feelings, images, and other various abstract concepts. That’s not terribly specific but it’s the best that I could come up with. Very rarely do actual thoughts occur to me as they are later defined, clarified with words. But I also feel that the thoughts that I do experience are far more true to themselves in my head without being cluttered and limited by the constraints of language. It seems to me that I have been given a “default” method of thought process that lends itself to basic expression in any language easily, while making it utterly impossible for me to ever fully convey a great many of my thoughts in any language. Talk about ironic.
Even now, as I write this, I feel like the words on the paper are a mere 2-dimensional representation of something so much more complex in its original unaltered form. I wish I could somehow capture it. I’d be content to just remember half of the words I use to explain my thoughts to myself immediately after they occur.
For all that I brag about not having homework here, it hasn’t done me a bit of good. The classes themselves are harder, I think, and from what I can tell, you’re expected to do at least some work outside of class for the engineering classes. In many ways I would prefer the structure of having everything so neatly outlined for you. Do this on this day, turn it in for X number of points. Some days I really miss my Rose life. Every day I miss my Rose friends.
I frequently wonder what people think when they first meet me. I am reasonably certain that the first impression people have of me is almost totally erroneous. Furthermore, I believe it to be a complete fabrication authored by a great many factors, at least one of which includes my perception of the sort personality type closest to my own that would elicit the least negative response in the other person. It’s not that I am trying to fit in, but that I am trying to make friends. After being thrust into a strange land with nothing familiar at all, fitting in seems inconsequential. I’ve gone my whole life without fitting in, why should I change it now?
I do, however, still respond to social urges. As much as it is possible for me to entertain myself for days on end in my room, I do need other people, even if for nothing else than occasional help with classes.
I’ve also noticed that this is mostly a subconscious process in me, which in itself makes it somewhat self damaging. The outgoing person I am when I meet new people belies my true introverted self, and while, for a short time, I can fake being social, it leads to increased awkwardness in successive encounters.
This post sounds depressed, but really I’m more pensive. Sure the sadness is there, but not any more than you would expect someone in my situation. And certainly not more than usual for me, in particular.
But I am tired, and I am lonely. I am overworked, I am bored. But I am also proud of myself. I’m proud in a subtle way, the way that builds slowly on itself and is not easily crushed. I have gotten through the first hard wave. I have my visa and accommodations for the entirety of my time here. I have registered for school and I have worked out my schedule and started classes. I can’t rest yet - I've got a lot left to do. Still, I can’t help feeling that things have turned around, and that I stand on the verge of something big, something interesting, something good.
But for now, I need to sleep.
I haven't slept well since I returned from my travels. To be fair, I never sleep well, but lately it has been worse than usual. If I do manage to fall asleep in a reasonable amount of time, it's always cut short, frequently by the alarm, telling me the small window I've allowed myself for sleep has ended. But seemingly equally often, I am startled awake by the vivid dreams that I seem to always have.
I have thought too much lately and slept too little. That statement describes my situation far more precisely than I intended, and at the same time, it’s so far from the truth I, that I am tempted to delete it.
I have found myself in many similar paradoxical situations lately. I feel as if I float at the edge of understanding everything, but right as I grasp it, everything seems to slide away. I sometimes feel that if I truly figure out the German language, I will know everything. It startles me a bit to discover that this is true, but only in the capacity that I will have mastered the key to knowing everything I that need to know in my foreseeable future.
Some days I feel so fortunate that English is my native language. I can command it with a fluency and expertise that comes only from having spoken it for twenty years. At the same time it bothers me, because the fact that English is my mother tongue also means that I waited until 8th grade to even think about learning a second language, because it isn’t necessary, or even encouraged for most career fields. It saddens me to think of how much I would know now if I had started younger. A little bit of that mindset has stayed with me, too, because I know that in most cases here, if I say a word in English, everyone will understand, so there’s less drive to actually learn it properly.
After picking up Russian, I have also thought excessively, almost obsessively about how I think, and why it seems to adapt itself to language so readily. Which first involves figuring out my method of thinking. My thoughts come to me in the form of feelings, images, and other various abstract concepts. That’s not terribly specific but it’s the best that I could come up with. Very rarely do actual thoughts occur to me as they are later defined, clarified with words. But I also feel that the thoughts that I do experience are far more true to themselves in my head without being cluttered and limited by the constraints of language. It seems to me that I have been given a “default” method of thought process that lends itself to basic expression in any language easily, while making it utterly impossible for me to ever fully convey a great many of my thoughts in any language. Talk about ironic.
Even now, as I write this, I feel like the words on the paper are a mere 2-dimensional representation of something so much more complex in its original unaltered form. I wish I could somehow capture it. I’d be content to just remember half of the words I use to explain my thoughts to myself immediately after they occur.
For all that I brag about not having homework here, it hasn’t done me a bit of good. The classes themselves are harder, I think, and from what I can tell, you’re expected to do at least some work outside of class for the engineering classes. In many ways I would prefer the structure of having everything so neatly outlined for you. Do this on this day, turn it in for X number of points. Some days I really miss my Rose life. Every day I miss my Rose friends.
I frequently wonder what people think when they first meet me. I am reasonably certain that the first impression people have of me is almost totally erroneous. Furthermore, I believe it to be a complete fabrication authored by a great many factors, at least one of which includes my perception of the sort personality type closest to my own that would elicit the least negative response in the other person. It’s not that I am trying to fit in, but that I am trying to make friends. After being thrust into a strange land with nothing familiar at all, fitting in seems inconsequential. I’ve gone my whole life without fitting in, why should I change it now?
I do, however, still respond to social urges. As much as it is possible for me to entertain myself for days on end in my room, I do need other people, even if for nothing else than occasional help with classes.
I’ve also noticed that this is mostly a subconscious process in me, which in itself makes it somewhat self damaging. The outgoing person I am when I meet new people belies my true introverted self, and while, for a short time, I can fake being social, it leads to increased awkwardness in successive encounters.
This post sounds depressed, but really I’m more pensive. Sure the sadness is there, but not any more than you would expect someone in my situation. And certainly not more than usual for me, in particular.
But I am tired, and I am lonely. I am overworked, I am bored. But I am also proud of myself. I’m proud in a subtle way, the way that builds slowly on itself and is not easily crushed. I have gotten through the first hard wave. I have my visa and accommodations for the entirety of my time here. I have registered for school and I have worked out my schedule and started classes. I can’t rest yet - I've got a lot left to do. Still, I can’t help feeling that things have turned around, and that I stand on the verge of something big, something interesting, something good.
But for now, I need to sleep.