/lit/ - Literature

Every once and a while one must take a step back and put into perspective the purpose of ones pursuits. For me, reading and understanding have been my main pursuits, in academia, and in my spare time.

It would seem to negate the purpose of the endeavor when the process is overwhelming and allows one no reprieve and recovery from the exhaustion incurred in the process. Of course one wants to understand Shelley's The Two Spirits, or James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, which although beautiful is taking me very long to read and makes me feel woefully inadequate as a reader. But relaxing and enjoying the process, and not feeling as though intellectual achievement is not a competition, is difficult at times.

What is an intellectual achievement in itself? It's a utility, it's merely a tool in your arsenal. When does one achieve some sort of intellectual goal that satiates the never ending appetite of the will? Never. It is the process which I could never seem to appreciate as much as the victory. The same is true of drawing, which I have since abandoned since I was young. I could no longer enjoy the process after a certain point.

How does one enjoy the process? Perhaps the meaningful answer to that question, given the empirical data I've been given, is that one enjoys oneself when there is a balance of relaxation and intellectual achievement. It's all too obvious to anyone but the complete and total fool, which I suppose until a moment ago I would not even have known I could call myself, but cannot call myself anymore.