Lost?

     I've been under some delusion that my purpose can only be defined (the fact that it needs defining is problematic enough) in terms of academic pursuits.  But I'm really not academic. The closer I come to feeling like my Self again, the more aware I am to a general feeling of unfulfilledness within the academic bubble. But in what?  Why is it that I can't seem to find my ground here? I'm comfortable with the ways  things go but that's not the same thing as belonging, is it.  I've felt more comfortable in environments I've never been in. Airports,  restaurants, yoga studios, France. So I know it isn't because I'm unsure of  unfamiliar things around me.  It's something deeper.

Getting My Annotated Bibliography Back
     I was given an assignment.  To find 5 sources revolving around any and all forms of reception and expression in regards to particular poet. In my unfortunate case I was assigned Eugene Lee-Hamilton.  Never heard of him?  Yea, neither has 90% of the rest of the world either.  As such, his virtual presence is limited to casual name dropping, mix-ups with similarly named gardeners and janitors, cumulatively more famous than the poet could ever even hope to be. Despite this considerable elusiveness, I tried.  I tried.  I tried despite not caring anymore.  Which in its own way could be construed as more challenging because I'm fighting with not only myself and my utterly desolate plain of Motivation but with the logical side of myself, the side that is currently proving to me how useless it all is.  How important is it that I "suck it up" like 'all the other university students' indefinitely 'out there', floating as indistinguishable from the aether of my hypothetical imagination. 

      She didn't even grade it.  Didn't even validate it as "attempted" by giving it an F. Instead I 'get' to do it over again.  I suppose the world would like to see this as a situation in which I illustrate some degree of gratitude. 
I haven't quite made it that far.
My thoughts are simpler. I can't yet decide if I even want to do it over again or if it's easier to just accept a fail and move on.  I can move on.  I'm good at 'moving on'.  Aren't I?  I think too much.  Why is "easier" always 'bad'?  Why would it even exist if it was bad?  I suppose it's the metaphysical equivalent of fast food on the soul. I feel like I've been eating at a raw, vegan, fair-trade hippie joint up 'til now and it's about time I maow'd down on a greasy helping of MSG laden Chinese noodles and fried beef parts. Give me Freedom.

     Doing it all in order to secure my future, hey. Aren't we all as miserable as we are because we've forgotten the art of living in the moment? Is living in the moment too easy? Not worthy of consideration because there's no hypothetical future on which to derive some false sense of accomplishment over merely because you're doing something hard, potentially soul-sucking right now...in the moments we're ignoring?

Logic, in Karlynian:

    You don't pursue post secondary? You're lazy. Stupid for choosing ignorance. Must have low, if any, standards of excellence for yourself. What do you expect to DO with your life.  Nothing, because that's what not going to university will get you.

     Travel? That's an excuse to distract people from your inherent inability to think the way University Thrivers think.  You can't operate at the level they do naturally, even when you try.  Have you seen your papers, lately? Your test scores? Assignment marks?  You're not even in the same league. Go do something sub-par.  Like teaching.  Traveling. Both.  It's all you'll ever accomplish, if that's even the best verb for what you'll have done. 

    What defines value? Why am I so uncreative, so unassertive as to unconsciously absorb non-Karlyn-derived esteems of value, then assign them to my own method of being? It does me no good whatsoever. It blinds me from myself.

    I can analyze but that isn't what fulfills me. And what is academia if not a bunch of people stuck analyzing the intricate details of other details derived from other details?  Then they write about it in whatever style suits the details they want to further elaborate upon.  If the older, detail-obsessed kings and queens of the academic realm don't agree or think you detailed your details improperly, you don't get to share your details with other detail-obsessives who actually subscribe to the journals those kings and queens nest upon. I don't think I'm as proficient at it as the academic world requires.  Do my high's from teaching stem from this misunderstood notion of myself?  I'm lost all over again.  I don't know anymore how authentic my interest in teaching is, anymore.  I  think it was a desire born out of misconstrued notion of reality, one that dictates value and worth of any kind being born from my academic success.  I'm scared that the feelings elicited within myself when people understand my explanations are no longer Real. I'm scared I'm setting myself up for failure.  That I even think I know what 'failure' is. I'm lost.