Wednesday, May 05, 2010

JSM 1002 Reflective Writing

Academia requires a student to learn to filter opinion and to take an objective view of the life and world around them. After this the authorities will demand personality within the text; this can be confusing and many students fumble with keeping it objective but individual, alas, it is possible and frequently students to succeed.

Yet the final curse of academia is to request an emotional outpour of reflective writing. What, may it be asked, does one write about when there is only the numbness?

Often the feedback of work is due to my love of circumlocution, a most wonderful way to dance with words. As amusing as it can be for small-scale writing projects it seems it is the enemy to academia. Needless to say, it makes you want to incorporate this style into essays more so when annoyed at the questions.

Talking of enemies, grammar is mine. I become irate just thinking about it, I do not care for it. People have tried to explain it to me many a time but it washes through my mind, leaving nothing but boredom; I continue to hope that writing just gets better with practise. I already know that this essay will annoy most people. “Your sentences are too long” and “It doesn’t make sense” are frequent remarks from an English degree studying friend.

It was desired from Anna that we take the Honey and Mumford learning styles questionnaire; the results portrayed me as a reflector learner. Defining this is to believe that I work better looking back over my work and others and drawing up conclusions and thoughts. One would believe that this essay would appeal to me. Alas, life is not so simple. I am vain in the traditional mirror way, but when the reflection comes back to my work I would rather forget and break the bonds. I have realised with some passion I detest academic work. Yet I love writing, giving informed opinions, reading and article/feature writing. But I just cannot stand essays, even if the topic is something I like.

Here we see my weakness. I am not the greatest writer, I admit, you can enjoy something without being very good at it. But that is not my weakness, but my disability to go for help when I so obviously need it is. “Don’t be too proud to accept help,” My mother has told me off for; easy to say, but I do not want to burden others with my menial woes. Most of all though I refrain from seeking help so as not to appear inferior.

To understand a broken mind is to follow the cracks, a depressive attitude can be easily covered with a laugh. Such as when the wind blows a flower, you would not see the detail on the petals, just the affirmation of colour dancing, looking pretty. You wouldn’t see the decay, the death of the flower that plagues almost every petal you look at. My lowest point in this course is the continual fear that haunts me. I am petrified that I am not good enough, that I will fail, my family has never made it to university, I am the first, and every day I think is there a reason for that. I absolutely adore the knowledge, and the course as a whole is delightful to be on, I honestly feel in the right place. But I can’t escape that fear, it makes me hide away from the responsibility, and life doesn’t wait around. It will leave you behind if you don’t keep up. And I am barely holding it in view as I try to catch up.

But life is not lived alone. My high points are the people. Every person I have met has helped me in some way. Be it Emma who shares my hatred of essays and love of writing, who will always laugh and doodle through the boredom with me. Be it Jon, who unknowingly is the most relaxing tutor as he never, raises his voice or gets angry so that I don’t suffer panic attacks like I often do with authority, I barely miss his seminars because I am confident enough to relax around him. My flatmates will cheer me up with random checks and coffee/toast stops to keep us all going till deadline.

It’s a bipolar lifestyle, but this course is probably worth getting out of bed for after all.

p.s thank you most of all to my beloved iPod who stayed awake with me every early morning or late night that everyone else slept through.

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