How Valuable Are Letters?

This week I have been thinking a lot about what my first ever blog entry should l look like and I have come up with two conflicting ideas. My first reaction is caress the English language and preserve this space for poetic and brilliant entries. On the opposition I feel I ought to embrace the informal style of a blog using the convenience to funnel the rawness of my daily emotions. I have come up with no conclusion, but instead will simply start writing in hopes that some element of beauty or sparked curiosity will arise.

I have spent a large portion of my semester studying for anatomy. Honestly, I have never studied so long for a test before this course. However there is no fruit to my labor, and I am fighting to achieve a C in the course. Trying hard has always equated to success in my experience and therefore Anatomy is causing me gray hairs. Although in the depth of my frustration this week I began to acknowledge that I have learned copious amounts of information and do find the course work fascinating. Yet somehow I approach the class with such disdain because of my current grade.

The more I reflect on this, the more I become saddened that my satisfaction with academia parallels the grade I get in the course. Does anyone in formal academia learn for pure enjoyment, and is our motivation only based on extrinsic rewards? I know a love for learning is not my number one source of motivation but I also don't want a grade on a transcript to be my motivation either. In a world founded on the value of personal achievement, competition, and instant gratification is it possible to be content? Is it possible to get a C, or even fail a class, and still find the experience positively rewarding?

I draw a blank. I am not sure if I am free enough to negate grades but for now I strive to find a place of contentment. It's strange, and I often feel lazy, but my soul needs a place of resting. I need to find value in something more reliable than the characters of the alphabet.