Just talked to one of my profs about the longest of the essays I'm supposed to write for March. This is supposed to be a 'mini-dissertation', including some amount of fieldwork (for which a ridiculously short time has been set aside). I'm afraid I whined quite a bit. The truth is, I am scared to death by this project. I wouldn't be so scared if it were the only thing I had to do until March, but it's not. There's two other short essays - hopefully those will be comparatively easy, considering the length - and my fear regarding the possibility of a fourth one has come true, unfortunately. Also, there's at least three presentations and a site report.
I have been told, by various people by now, that students in Oxford have to do something like 12 essays per term. Well, okay, supposedly you have to be extra clever to go to Oxford, so maybe you can manage that kind of amount of work if you're the typical Oxford student. After all, Eledhwen went to Oxford and coped just fine, and did lots of extracurricular work besides. But I'm just a typical German student - lazy, spoiled by a system that allows you to take whole terms out without anyone minding, and not all that bright, either. And I feel quite overwhelmed already by the comparatively mild (if compared to Oxford standards) amount of 10,000 words to produce until March.
These are the times when I realise that I really don't have it in me. Those dreams about someday, maybe, *working* at university? I should learn to lay them to rest, and quickly. They're just making me unhappy. Especially since I'm not behaving in the right way for that kind of career, anyway (not to mention my intellectual shortcomings). University careers don't start when you're done with your studies, they start a lot earlier. I've *already* missed that train. Now, if I were exceptionally bright, maybe that would make up for something. But I'm not exceptionally bright, I'm just average to slightly above average bright. And there's nothing that can be done about *that*. I am still learning, and to some degree I'm still growing a bit, intellectually, but there's a ceiling there, somewhere, and I can tell that it's already near.
So. Actually, my doubts may seem ridiculous to many. I am bright enough, my marks are good enough, to actually qualify for all kinds of potentially interesting work, I suppose. I am not so much angsting about not getting any kind of job, as I'm angsting about the sheer fact of just not being a genius. Which, I admit, is quite a ridiculous thing to angst about.
Incidentally, though you've probably already made the connection, this is also where my self-doubts about writing, and a whole lot of other issues, e.g. my 'fandom and status' issue, come from. They're rooted in the same frelling feeling of inadequacy.
Now, where does *that* come from, you ask?
I don't know. I can make educated guesses, but I honestly don't know. My guess would be that a large part of it goes back to being an only child of parents who seemed to appreciate everything I did a lot. I always was given a feeling that I was special, and now I'm discovering that I'm not, at least not in *that* way, and it's a painful discovery. But really, it wasn't just my parents who made the mistake of treating me like I was, you know, somehow exceptionally bright. Quite a few of my teachers did so, too. The funny thing is that I wasn't actually an exceptional student. There were a few years when my marks were very bad indeed. They got better in later years, but mostly because I got rid of the subjects I sucked at. (Okay, I actually improved a bit in chemistry, maths, history, social studies, biology, and English, too. But not dramatically. And, in the cases of maths and chemistry, not without a lot of help.) Sometimes I think it's being quiet and shy that did the trick, fooled everyone into thinking I was going to be special. It's a common misconception that the quiet ones are also deep. Well, maybe I even am, to some degree - I certainly get more of a kick out of things like reading and thinking (and angsting *g*) than most people, and even most students, seem to do. But the thing is, there are still millions of my kind out there, thousands at this university alone, I guess, and among those thousands or millions I'm just another mediocre would-be intellectual. And I'm an elitist, meaning that I believe only people who are *really* good at something should be doing it professionally. Which kind of rules me out neatly for all kinds of jobs that involve really deep, thorough, creative thinking, 'cause, let's face it, I'm just not *that* good at it. Close, yes, but no cookie. (A nice psychological trap I built there for myself.)
It would be interesting to find out why it is so important for me to be bright. Why is my feeling of self-worth so intricately intertwined with my level of intelligence? (BTW, although I'm obsessed with being bright, I never actually had my IQ tested - partly because I don't quite believe you can measure it exactly, but also, partly, because I'm afraid of the result. It might be lower than I think. *g*) After all, I do *not* believe that people who are less bright are also less worthy as human beings. I really don't. Somehow, this extremely strict standard applies only to me. (Which is of course quite common of people with psychological problems. Anorexics don't think everybody is too fat; they only think they themselves are too fat. Is there a word for people who believe they have to be bright? I propose: "intellectics". Or maybe not. *g*)
Hmm. Food for thought. Which reminds me that I'm hungry, and that I have to go and meet Scapekid at the station. I have to hurry if I still want to get a sandwich. Anyway, I think I've been quite neurotic enough for one day. And in public, no less. Heh. It's almost as good as taking your clothes off in the university square! *g*
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