Boned.
Time spent struggling against obstacle is time spent revealing the nature of the person who struggles against it. The nature of - or lack of - the internal revolt which arises against such an activity reflects more accurately the beliefs and values of the person engaged it in than words possibly could, given that words can only arrive having already passed through the filter of a mind understandably determined to express itself to the world in the best terms possible - any individual concerned with self improvement would appear to be an individual concerned with vanity in this regard, for the two are indistinguishable at this level. I suppose.
Life not on my own terms is not a life I would begin to consider living. A job, yes; and one which I won't enjoy, likely, at least for many years. Tolerance of others, certainly; it's always been there, beneath the general complaining.
It is not the nature of my work which I do not enjoy; having spent so many hours crawling through texts I find myself not particularly tired of doing the physical work. It is the nature of the job to be done with that information - absolutely irrelevant. None of these questions are daunting in the least, challenging in the least, interesting in the least. This is an exercise in sheer work for the sake of work. This is not skill, ability, reasoning of any kind. This is determining who went to class and took the most detailed notes. What is the point of that? What am I proving that I can do? More significantly, what am I proving that I am unable or unwilling to do?
Where the hell am I going? Life viewed in context, placed on the end of a continuum which is constantly travelling away from the point at which it began, suggests that I am in a strange place. I am not happy here; I am not comfortable doing what I am doing and I don't look forward to the changes which are coming in life. Something should be done, and it occurs to me that I would probably be the person tasked with handling that job, but I've received no training. That is a fact which, while universally common and inescapably certain, is nonetheless very unfortunate and very much unwelcome every time it is encountered.
I need out into the world again. Something went wrong and I ended up back here, alone, both older and wiser and yet still stuck in exactly the same damn place. Right - precisely why I need to destroy this place as a viable option. Wherever next is, it won't ever be here again - and it seems I've decided to presume to speak as though I've left already; how optimistic of me - and that can be nothing but a good thing. Nothing? Hardly true.
Good luck is not the best I can allow myself to do. I need a plan.
Why is it n years later and I still have a stupid blue cat representing my emotional state?