Grandiose perfectionism.

I find this course boring; it is too easy to the point where attempting to make it intellectually enjoyable actually ends up hampering me. C tells me to stop showing off but I’m not; it’s just if you ask me to write six-hundred words on Protagoras I find it boring; I can bang out fifteen hundred in a blog post about something I’ve read if I really want to, and I chose this course because it’s something I’m interested in, so I can write reams and reams about it and reference the fuck out of it and do an awesome job.

What I’m being asked to do is in fact so easy that I find it boring which is dangerous; a recurring theme in my educational life is being bored because things are too easy. I screwed up my GCSE’s because basically I was bored rigid at school, getting 90% in a test was normal; once I got 99% on a biology exam and I’m talking without revision. So I never really developed study skills; I just never needed them. In fact truth be told if I hadn’t have had depression I’d have probably done quite well. My chemistry resits I did in about fifteen minutes flat with no study. My teacher came over and I slowly leafed through the paper as he looked over my shoulder and he gave me the thumbs up and as I sauntered out he’s like “A’s on all papers”.

Now the problem is that I have the study skills but I can’t really put them to use. S continuously reminds me that not everything has to be a magnum opus, this annoys me. I suppose I feel that something is only important if it’s massive. I can hear C telling me that I don’t always have to be larger than life. I’m an intellectual size queen; if I’m not stretched then the whole thing just fails to wet my appetite.

The only positive, immediate positive, of the course is that I’ve found that the workload, as if mine isn’t insane already, actually keeps me in a near permanent state of hypomania, which, thinking about it, I may now be experiencing.

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