Home for the Weekend

So I made the trek back home for the weekend. A few more hours in the car tomorrow - we're heading up to NJ to visit with my grandma. She's pretty ill, and my family has made a few trips up there to see her. I'm glad my schedule wasn't so crazy that I couldn't go this time.

Aside from a solid hour of bumper-to-bumper traffic on 81 (stupid construction), the drive up went quite smoothly. The extra hour of traffic basically just meant that I got an extra hour to listen to music.

And I did a lot of thinking. Any time spent truly alone is a time well-spent with introspection. It's rare that this kind of time occurs...we're usually in class, at study sessions, in apartments/dorms with roommates, what have you. Being alone is almost a commodity. I came to the conclusion that life wasn't as hard as it appeared on Wednesday when I had my semi-meltdown after biochem lab. At that point, everything was going wrong and I didn't know how to cope with it or express it.

I'm happier now after a few days. I don't know what it is. I don't know whether it's an emotional see-saw, or part of some larger healing/learning process. I always knew this would be the most difficult semester of my life. I just didn't know how hard it would really be.

I thought about some things that I had said and thought about the other day. How I was so burned out, I wasn't looking forward to class like I used to, how grad school seemed more like torture than what I want to do. And I don't know that I feel that way any more. I was thinking about the best letter of recommendation I ever got, from my high school calculus teacher. He provided me with a copy of it in case I needed another, or just wanted to read it. I remember bringing it home and reading it to my parents. My mom about cried.

I thought a lot about that letter while I was in the car. It meant a lot more to me than just a teacher helping me get into University Honors. It was a firm statement that someone (other than family) believed I should get the best in life, that I truly worked hard and deserved everything I earned, someone who believed in me when he didn't have to. That's powerful.

One phrase in particular sticks with me today. My teacher wrote, "His motivation is not anxiety-driven." A simple statement, to be sure, but powerful. It made me realize a key difference between myself then and now. I used to have fun learning. I took pride in working hard and getting answers, being successful. What has been motivating me lately? Fear. Fear of inadequacy. Fear of failure. Fear of being left behind. Fear of not getting into grad school next year. Fear of not being all I could be.

Whether this has been a conscious choice or not, I don't know. But at least now I know what I need to fix. I need to start having fun in school again. Yes, I'm a dork, I enjoy school. I always used to say I hated it, just as everyone else did, but there's no denying that I've always loved to learn. I need to get back to that. I don't want to be driven by a penetrating anxiety. That will only be self-destructive. It's true that there were a lot of other things going on this week that bothered me, but unfortunately an inadequate lab grade set me off. (I made some really stupid mistakes, that's undeniable.)

Here's to hoping introspection continues to heal.

I also decided to concentrate more on my music, like I used to. I'm going to try to write more, and I'm definitely going to make more time for playing guitar and recording. It's all-too-often pushed to the back burner in favor of more manic studying or homework. If I truly need to get something done, I'll attend to it, but if it's something I can push a bit, I'm pulling out the ol' 6-(or 12-)string and laying out some tunes like back in the day. God have I missed that.