Sunday Night

There's always something scary about Sunday nights.

Like the trail of blood that the horror movie protagonist follows, and like the economists' renewed enthusiasm in doomsaying, it heralds something worse.

Mondays.

My self esteem and motivation are rapidly getting whittled away in school. I'm in a group where everyone works unreasonably hard. At the expense of each other's happiness. No one talks about anything but work. Every now and then, the psychopath of the group will make some snide comment about me being academically inferior to her in front of the tutors. Just to make herself feel better.

I miss my old group, where there's an unwritten, unsaid mantra shared between us. Leave no men behind. We didn't do too well academically, but hey, we were happy.

And this comes at a time when I realise that not everyone is cut out for a life of achievement. I know I'm not one of them; I'd much rather sit back and enjoy a movie than to slog for fame and fortune. I don't even know what I'm getting myself into these days, but it certainly isn't a lifestyle I can imagine myself living in the long term.

Every day I slog in med school I feel like I'm missing out on the cognitive training that the rest of my peers in other fields experience - learning about various contrasting fields, honing in on their writing - both analytical and creative, and seeing the world from different, non-egocentric perspectives.

It's sad when much of my cognitive training in my university days comes from the Internet discussions and social conversations I participate in.

Oh well, at least I'll come out stronger and better from it. Or at least, I hope. Just as long as I can clearly define my needs and wants.

Needs: Get through life, and whatever it throws at me. Get through school, don't fuck up the career too badly.

Wants: Do pleasurable things. Go somewhere I'd be able to fit in better. Live comfortably and simply.

The needs aren't easy to achieve. Self motivation is bloody hard.