Focus
I look at the bookself. The Art of War. Finnegan's Wake. Phenomenology of Spirit. and a whole stack of other books that I would rather die than not read and certainly wish to read before I die and all the while I am spending hours upon hours reading statistics and stupid essays on whateveritisthistime.
Why is it that I am taking part in a University system in which I can actually be expected to devote an entire semester of my life toward classes that I care nothing about and have (objectively) extremely little to teach me?
I push forward with my doubts about how well I will do in these godforsaken classes, and even greater doubts about why I don't just go after the thing rather than stall out in this nexus of the undermotivated, all here on the idea that they will eventually figure out what they want out of life. Why be scared of your own direction? Shit I need a break.
Why is it that I am taking part in a University system in which I can actually be expected to devote an entire semester of my life toward classes that I care nothing about and have (objectively) extremely little to teach me?
I push forward with my doubts about how well I will do in these godforsaken classes, and even greater doubts about why I don't just go after the thing rather than stall out in this nexus of the undermotivated, all here on the idea that they will eventually figure out what they want out of life. Why be scared of your own direction? Shit I need a break.