General foolishness
Today my comedy class watched Buster Keaton's "The General," a superbly entertaining picture involving several train chases and Keaton's own delightful brand of physical comedy. The movie also contains, according to IMDb, the single most expensive shot in all of silent film. After seeing it, I believe it-- it's an impressive shot, and probably all the more so if the nature of it isn't spoiled, so I won't ruin it. "The General" is probably the most entertaining of the silent films we've examined so far in the class, and it's one that I'd recommend to anybody.
My general malaise was temporarily put at bay by a burst of activity this morning, but accompanying Ms. Willison to pick up her paper put me in a very foul mood. The paper I got back this morning was relatively satisfactory, grade-wise, but I don't understand the major discrepancy between the extremely flattering comments made by David Lynn during my meeting with him and the relatively unimpressive grades I've been receiving on my papers from my English classes. Is it that my effectiveness as a writer diminishes significantly in the space between 1500 and 3000 words? Are the criteria for quality academic writing that different between the two cultures? I don't think I try any harder for the Kenyon class-- rather, the opposite. Do I just have the poor fortune to have tough graders in the British classes I've been taking? How is it that I get an effortless A- on my Kenyon portfolio (for which I did no revision, and indeed, very little editing at all) and yet manage to get a 59 and two 65s on my three essays for other classes?
And if I care so much, why don't I try harder?
These questions (and more) necessarily lead to bigger ones, such as "why am I at Uni at all?" "Do I want to go to graduate school? Why, or why not?" "Are there any criteria, any at all, by which I can definitively say that my life is worthwhile?" "Why does Osama Bin Laden prefer being hugged to being kissed?"
More than this, what truly bothers me is a thought process I possess that I have identified distinctly over the last two years: When I perceive my peers as being more successful than me, my instinct is not to try harder but to run away. A large part of my motive in coming to England was my impression that somehow my Hawken friends were "more successful" than I was, whether it was because of their ability to maintain a relationship, their constant and spectacular successes on the stage, or their capability of growing facial hair. When Margaret revealed that her grades were substantially better than my own, my first instinct was to sequester myself and abstain from socialization-- this is part of a bigger picture of my sorry inability to deal with other people's skill. When the Denison guys kick my ass at Halo, I want to stop playing. When Margaret bests me at the game of essays-written-at-the-last-possible-second, I want to remove myself from academia. All throughout my childhood, I've wanted to quit everything I've sucked at, rather than work at it until I was better.
Running is lonely, I've discovered. In my book, being bested = failure, failure = shame, and the natural instinct is to flee from shame, rather than facing it. I don't know at what point in that reasoning the fault lies, or even if there's fault at all, but I know that I used to be able to deal with it back when I thought I had something I deserved to be proud of-- namely, my relationship with Hannah Gardner.
This digression has gotten a degree too personal, perhaps, and part of my intent in moving away from livejournal was avoiding the introspective (and ultimately whiny) posts which the medium facilitates. These issues haven't left my mind, however, and so I choose to continue communicating them (though hopefully in a manner which is less melodramatic and more genuinely analytical).
Well. Until later, then.
My general malaise was temporarily put at bay by a burst of activity this morning, but accompanying Ms. Willison to pick up her paper put me in a very foul mood. The paper I got back this morning was relatively satisfactory, grade-wise, but I don't understand the major discrepancy between the extremely flattering comments made by David Lynn during my meeting with him and the relatively unimpressive grades I've been receiving on my papers from my English classes. Is it that my effectiveness as a writer diminishes significantly in the space between 1500 and 3000 words? Are the criteria for quality academic writing that different between the two cultures? I don't think I try any harder for the Kenyon class-- rather, the opposite. Do I just have the poor fortune to have tough graders in the British classes I've been taking? How is it that I get an effortless A- on my Kenyon portfolio (for which I did no revision, and indeed, very little editing at all) and yet manage to get a 59 and two 65s on my three essays for other classes?
And if I care so much, why don't I try harder?
These questions (and more) necessarily lead to bigger ones, such as "why am I at Uni at all?" "Do I want to go to graduate school? Why, or why not?" "Are there any criteria, any at all, by which I can definitively say that my life is worthwhile?" "Why does Osama Bin Laden prefer being hugged to being kissed?"
More than this, what truly bothers me is a thought process I possess that I have identified distinctly over the last two years: When I perceive my peers as being more successful than me, my instinct is not to try harder but to run away. A large part of my motive in coming to England was my impression that somehow my Hawken friends were "more successful" than I was, whether it was because of their ability to maintain a relationship, their constant and spectacular successes on the stage, or their capability of growing facial hair. When Margaret revealed that her grades were substantially better than my own, my first instinct was to sequester myself and abstain from socialization-- this is part of a bigger picture of my sorry inability to deal with other people's skill. When the Denison guys kick my ass at Halo, I want to stop playing. When Margaret bests me at the game of essays-written-at-the-last-possible-second, I want to remove myself from academia. All throughout my childhood, I've wanted to quit everything I've sucked at, rather than work at it until I was better.
Running is lonely, I've discovered. In my book, being bested = failure, failure = shame, and the natural instinct is to flee from shame, rather than facing it. I don't know at what point in that reasoning the fault lies, or even if there's fault at all, but I know that I used to be able to deal with it back when I thought I had something I deserved to be proud of-- namely, my relationship with Hannah Gardner.
This digression has gotten a degree too personal, perhaps, and part of my intent in moving away from livejournal was avoiding the introspective (and ultimately whiny) posts which the medium facilitates. These issues haven't left my mind, however, and so I choose to continue communicating them (though hopefully in a manner which is less melodramatic and more genuinely analytical).
Well. Until later, then.
posted by Nate at 11:19 AM
3 Comments:
The logic is flawed because, while failure might equal same, flight ALSO equals shame.
As to the success of your friends. Denison is a small school with a small theatre program. It isn't that it's bad, it's just that the pond is small. My writing would be torn asunder at Kenyon. The grass is always greener, friend. Don't beat yourself up.
AlsoIcangrowabeardandyoucan't.
....
I've got to agree with the beard on this one.
I know there are people who are jealous of the fact that I have a job that I love. I, in turn, seethe with rage over the fact that they are close to friends and family.
And be comforted in the fact that your friends are all just as fallible, albeit in different ways.
and to david's comment I say HECK YES.
looooooooord knows I IN NO WAY have my life in any kind of successful order, and I am certainly jealous of things you're capable of, primarily the fact that you have the courage to want something difficult (being a writer) and actively and openly pursue that goal, which is somthing I cannot do.
I know in a lot of ways that's beside the point, but I don't tell you enough how impressive I find that so... I guess that fills my quota of kind, encouraging messages to nate for at least the next 6 months. And, as someone who's known you pretty darn well over the last 2.5 years, I can definitely say that you have changed a lot, and made a huge amount of progress on a lot of the issues you talk about here. So, you are changing, people can see it, and you should know that I wholeheartedly congratulate you on the substantial progress you've made.
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