||[Jul. 12th, 2013|01:16 am]
So it turns out I am really bad at philosophy.|
I'm in grad school, somewhere I've purported to really want to be. That is, in fact, all I've ever wanted to do. I always wanted to be an academic, an intellectual.
So it's humbling that I am so bad at it.
I nearly failed a class; in fact I turned in a vapid paper so stultifying that the professor called me out on it, but gave me some extra time to fix it, and I'm just not sure that I did.
I turned in a super rough paper, but a paper in which I tried to engage with the ideas on my own two feet, and I'm terrified of the professor's response to it. If she tells me I have no philosophical talent or vision I'd have to agree with her. But I don't want to. I want to keep going, I want to keep trying.
I can't use another word but terrified, because for the first time I tried, (perhaps not as hard as I could have possibly, but she herself told me that the idea of what you think you should be will never match up to what you actually are, or what you actually do) and I will in all likelihood fail.
I've always had this strain of magical thinking, this strain that I will succeed in some mysterious realm of imagination. I'm the first female philosophical genius, in this realm. People will place me on the level of Marx or Kant or Descartes. I should know that this is ridiculous, and in reality I do know this. But it's who I imagine myself to be. It's who I want to be, apart from my human foibles, and there are many of them.
I'm going to be a writer whose name is remembered, I tell myself. But what do I do to get there?
I hope she sees something in me.