It's been five hours of homework and four of Boston Legal. That sounds like a Sinead O'Connor song. I feel mine is equally as depressing as hers anyway. I would not look nearly as hot with a shaved head, though. More like a sausage that was speckled only on one side.

That was a completely disgusting visual--I apologize to all of you.

Mostly I'm feeling guilty for watching so much Boston Legal, not having my homework done, and not having blogged when I told myself I was going to. In actuality I should hold off until I read my latest feminist theory book for class but I feel like I should remind everyone that I'm not actually an angry female all the time. Truly. This book is called Silences and it promises to get the blood flowing. I have no doubt.

I feel good though. Tired, stressed, but good. I think part of the problem my first semester here was that there was no challenge. I wasn't working on or for anything. I was going to school, but I didn't like my classes and the one's I might have liked were sub par due to various circumstances. This semester I have great classes that are promising to be an extreme amount of work. That makes me stressed; it means I'll be cloistered in my room doing homework. But it means I'm learning. It means I'm working for something and that is exciting. I'm only me when I'm pushing myself. Is that bad? It never occurred to me that characteristic might be something I need to look into. I think the only problem really is that I'm incapable of doing it to myself; instead I have to put myself into situations that force me to rise to the occasion.

On a tangential thought to that I wonder if that is why I have always gotten along with my brother so well. In my studies both in and out of school I have discovered there are people who see others more accomplished than them, smarter, quicker, more naturally talented, and say ah, I must improve. And then there are people that get angry at the accomplished person and hold their accomplishments against them. They're too smart, or too good. It's no fun to be around someone whom is constantly your superior. I have had it pointed out to me that I am of the former group--perhaps some of you wouldn't agree, but I believe myself to be of the former group anyway. I don't enjoy playing games when there's no real competition, and I don't enjoy discussions with someone who is only interested in arguing instead of dialoguing, but when faced with someone better than I am at something my first impulse is to practice. I need to improve so that I can come back and kick said ass.

My brother is very often better at things than I am. How much of that is due to extraneous factors I don't know and don't care. I don't think he won the genetic lottery nor do I think he has undue advantages from life. Rather he has a very analytical mind and that allows him a certain advantage in most games. My mind enjoys pretending to be analytical, but I don't believe it is my natural state. Couple with that my being four years younger my motor skills were slower to develop as well. This meant that for much of our childhood I was constantly striving to put up a challenge. I imagine for some people that would have been frustrating or demeaning. For me is was fantastic. When I gave him a run for his money it was so exciting; the thrill of having improved was incredible. The first time I beat him at a game I jumped up and down because the victory was sweet. Not because he had messed up or I had cheated, but because I had worked for that and I won. It was a Nintendo game and I could still tell you which one. I remember because it was the first time in my life that I realized if I was willing to work--if I was willing to lose while I learned how to win--I could be as good at something as I wanted to be.

The only exception I have found to that rule so far is bowling and mini-golf. Fate just mocks me with those two.

I share this because I know and know of people who can't take the loss. Either because it isn't in their genetic make-up or because they've lost too many times I don't know. I've witnessed people in classrooms attack or back bite because the idea that someone might be smarter or more insightful is poisonous to them. I've seen my own friends and family nearly come to blows over games. Games that don't even matter.

Life isn't particularly fair and oftentimes we can't succeed at everything we attempt. You don't get hired, or accepted, or asked out, or whatever and that's just the way it is. Sometimes you are just not as good at something as someone else. But the thought I find myself rolling around in my head is, when does it start to matter? When and why does a lack of accomplishment/victory denote a loss of respect? If I fail out of school which isn't likely, but completely possible, there are people that would say they were so very sorry for me while secretly laughing inside. I can't imagine feeling that way over anything.

I have taken pleasure in people's pain; it's not something I'm proud of, but I won't deny it. But never real pain, never serious pain. Taking pleasure in someone else's failure seems to me sadism--is it not the same feelings that go through people that torture, just on a smaller scale? But where is all of this taking us you ask, and it is a good question.

I think that where I'm going is that I'm glad to be challenged, ecstatic even. I'm not happy when I'm not challenged--not really. But I only really enjoy it when it is surmountable. No matter how hard, it still needs to be doable. And challenges, whether you are challenged or challenging (no pun intended) are only enjoyable when there's a chance of victory for both. That's why games aren't fun when there's an obviously skilled opponent on one side.

It's fun and necessary to lose sometimes so that you can still be excited when you win.

That's why I'm glad I'm having a hard time this semester. If school were too easy why would I be in it? Why would I need it? But more than that, I'm glad that I can generally have as much fun failing spectacularly as I can winning. I'm glad that my self-image is not tied up completely in failing. Oh, it still hurts me to fall short, but I've failed spectacularly so many times in my life that I've long since learned that there is more to me than my actions. Despite that, though, I am only what I try to be.

This is an odd post, it's true. I'm not sure what prompted all these musings. You'll notice a link on the right. That is my blog required by one of my classes at school. There is no link from that blog to this one as my teacher will be reading the other. It is my response to the field of Composition as we read articles this semester. Feel free to check it out and leave comments if you desire, but I can't promise the excitement of what you'll find there.

In any case, I think I better watch at least one more Boston Legal before I go to bed. I bid you good night.