I’ve always approached blogging from a rather pragmatic stance, complete with low expectations, no thoughts of a cult-like following, and no deluded visions of grandeur. For these reasons, I don’t usually link my blog, I’ve pulled it out of as many search engines as possible, it’s not listed on my Facebook profile, and I seldom bring it up in conversation. The whole idea is one of website as a hidden gem. I’d like the people who visit to only do so because (however limited in scope), they find a small nugget of value in reading my rantings/ravings. The reality is harsh, but generally goes thus: nobody cares what I had for lunch, they probably don’t think I’m funny, they aren’t interested in the things I link, and my photographs don’t speak to them. On the contrary, those who have a modicum of interest in what I’m doing here, I welcome you with open arms and an appreciation for every speck of feedback and comments you offer.

At this point, with so pessimistic an introduction, we must ask: why blog? Your answers are different than mine; my reasons are two-fold. First, I blog to remember. From an early age, I’ve been keenly aware of the brief time we have on earth, and I want to leave a tiny tangible print as evidence of my time here. I’d like something left behind to attempt to answer the question of “what was he like?” or “what did he do?” I can only dream that my writing will be of sufficient quality to answer the question “who was he?” It’s like this quote from “Death and Underachievement: A Guide to Happiness in Work:

My lifelong preoccupation with accomplishment has always been not so much motivated by a desire for praise or reward as an anxiety about having some concrete achievements to which I can point and say, “look there, you cold and unfeeling universe: something I’ve done, something I’ve made, something I shall leave behind.”

The second reason I blog is for self-understanding; it would seem I’m a bit preoccupied with trying to figure out who I am. This is a tendency I (ironically) don’t quite understand… after all, many people take their opinions, quirks, traits, and beliefs at face-value. I seem to have developed an inability to accept pieces of who I am without first turning them over and examining them, along with the threads that connect them to other people and past events. For me, then, blogging is an attempt to put together both (1) a crude portrait of a life in progress and (2) a journey of self discovery. Which brings me to today’s topic: disillusionment. Join me, won’t you?

I remember the day I first became disillusioned with folding myself into society’s mold. I can’t tell you if it was a Tuesday or a Wednesday, but I can tell you it was the day I received the news about a scholarship I applied for at St. Thomas. The year was 2003, the season was summer, and the scholarship was the Science, Mathematics, and Engineering Scholarship. The terms: 2 winners received complete tuition for four years of college! All through my high school years my parents said, “We don’t expect you to get a job; high school is your job, so do your best at that.” And I did do my best. I hit the books hard in every class, participated in the ‘scholarly’ extra curricular racket, and augmented my academics with fine arts and athletics. At the time of application for the scholarship I thought, “there is literally nothing else I could do to make me more competitive.” With this naïve belief in the existence of societal meritocracy working on my behalf, I was doomed to be disappointed.

And disappointed I was: I didn’t get the scholarship. I didn’t even get a runner-up scholarship of partial tuition. I had spent three solid years doing literally everything I could have done to reach this goal, and factors beyond my control took the opportunity away. It’s hard to describe what a shattering blow to my basic understanding of the world this was, and I didn’t realize it myself until quite recently. So, come freshman year of college, my brain and body were still going through the motions of hard work, but my spirit was flagging. The singularity of my high school vision of achievement had me thinking of hard work and success as following one another like night and day. I got disillusioned. For a while, I got downright bitter.

Don’t get me wrong: I really enjoyed my biochemistry course materials and genuinely liked the lectures, but I over-corrected in the opposite direction: trying to convince myself that I was being too preoccupied with perfection, then scrambling when I felt I didn’t know course material well enough, and cycling on and on in an endless loop of stress. Normally, a person in my position would have loosened up the reins a bit, tried new things in college, and matured along way. However, for four years, I tried to loosen up, found the reins clenched in my hands, and instead of enjoying my time at college spent my free moments looking wildly around, trying to slow down the chariot race. And for the whole time, I wanted to talk to my parents about it, but I was convinced they wouldn’t understand and just list ways for me to organize my life to find more time for homework. It hurts to look back on it, and I’m more than a bit ashamed to talk about it. Frankly, that’s why I’ve buried the story under such a large introduction… only those who are really curious will make it this far.

Along this college journey, subconsciously, something clicked (again, an event I wasn’t even aware of until recently). I became a bit concerned with “return on investment.” I wanted the effort I put in and the time I spent to count for something. This is not a terrible view to hold, but I do think it needs to be countered with a resignation that some things simply must be done. For example, at work I have to keep track of my hours on (literally… seriously, literally) four different systems. This aggravates me to no end and I realize there will be, can be, no return on investment here. There’s no “satisfaction in a job well done” for accurately completing 4 different time sheets. It’s just something that, if I want to keep working here, I need to do. And accepting that is a good thing.

The resolution of my disillusionment continues, but realizing what happened up in my head is a major step. On top of this, the forthcoming work in dental school will not be put forth blindly into the aether the way high school work was. A D.D.S. has a very concrete educational path with a predictable job outlook, which is a framework I need to feel that all is not for naught. Your mileage may vary, but that’s just the way I am wired. And so, finally, it feels like my compass is pointing in the correct direction.

The Greeks said “everything in moderation.” NOFX said “everything in moderation, especially moderation.” I say “know thyself,” as in Hamlet (Act 1, Scene 3):

This above all: to thine ownself be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!

I’m working on it… I’m working on it.

• Life questions
• Blogging
• Dental school
• Shakespeare

3 comments left

Essays Nearby

• Do, Do Not
• Waiting on Some Warmth
• Computer Bandwagon
• Sets of 3