Not again, no, no, no

Time: 10.25pm
Place: Regenstein Library
Mood: utterly unmotivated, tired, stressed out but finding myself unable to open the textbook sitting 5 centimetres from me.

This is all too familiar, this dreadful lack of spirit. I thought I had conquered it, but apparently some demons of the mind are more resilient than one thinks.

The events of the past two weeks have literally drained me. So much for getting through winter quarter normally this year - I feel like I'm on a bullet train to depression-ville. No matter how hard I try, the old problems keep coming back, like the fucking plague. Even if I put in my all, it's just not good enough. It will never be good enough.

Yes, I feel ashamed. Academics, school, and internships affect me too much. Yes, it literally hurts me when you give me a B- on a paper I actually liked. After being told time and time again, "Kathy, you are a beautiful writer, but your writing style isn't what UChicago is looking for," and trying so hard to change myself to please various TAs and professors, I thought I finally got it. Before this, I was actually getting good grades. It was beginning to look like my hard work was paying off. I found professors who actually appreciated me, and thought I had a A-grade BA thesis in me somewhere. But no, apparently that was too much to expect, obviously an upward trend doesn't exist in this school.

I think I finally figured it out. I know that math and science, econ, are not things I'm naturally good at. But I have always known I am a good writer. For 18 years people, newspapers, prizes, affirmed and reaffirmed this fact. The past two years I struggled with redefining my self worth so much that I naively thought that now, by my 3rd year, I have reconciled these problems. I was wrong. One set-back, and my world still comes crashing down. I will get infinitely more upset about a bad paper then a bombed econ midterm, because it is like UChicago is trying to take the last bit of self-esteem away from me. To think there was a time when I thought I was the shit...how hilarious is that.

My heart tells me the best thing for me right now is take the summer off and find my passion and drive once again. I had goals, dreams, and aspirations for who I want to be, and they are still there. I am still convinced that there is nothing else I'd rather be doing than work in economic development. I just need to be willing to sacrifice more and more to get there. So what if I'm too idealistic. Somebody has to do the job, if "making the world a better place is a stupid concept, then I am happy to dedicate my career to this stupid cause.

I can tell Grandpa is worried for me. I like to think that nobody in the world knows me better than him. My most treasured memories of childhood involve flying kites, playing chess, writing calligraphy, reciting ancient poems, listening to stories of revolution, watching red army serials after dinner, eating distinctly Jiangsu style food, all with Grandpa. When I'm home for the holidays and tell various relatives and family friends how happy I am at school and put on a happy-go-lucky face, Grandpa looks into my eyes and knows exactly how I really feel. In his own quiet way he's there for me in the most difficult times. Emails containing my favorite poems by 辛弃疾 and 苏轼, quotes from 鲁迅, his new paintings, never fail to cheer me up. Before boarding the plane four weeks ago, he pulled me aside and said, "Yezi, it's all a matter of mentality." He's absolutely right. What is life but one hurdle after another?

Grandpa, thank you for understanding me like no other person in the world.

I miss you, so so much. Don't worry for me, I know I can get through this. =)