Nerve

Ye gods, when did I lose my nerve? I used to be worldly-yet-not-worldly - that is, I'd been all over the place and seen and done all sorts of uncommon things, but at the same time I was blissfully untouched by any sense of difficulty or complexity in succeeding.

Now, I am more-worldly-yet-jaded-about-my-abilities. I'm quicker and smarter and more sociable, but I am acutely aware of the limits I must work within. I used to think: I would set my priorities, and they would happen. Now I feel hemmed in; my notions are constrained by (the appearance of) reality.

There is a context: I am planning on applying to graduate school (in political science most likely). When I think about it I see more sticking points than opportunities. I worry that there are insurmountable barriers at recommendation letters and application essays, professors and dissertations, and (assuming I ever get that far!) employment, debts, and tenure. In doing so I lose sight of the fact that I actually want to do this. I can see myself lecturing, teaching seminars, researching and writing. Engaged in intellectual life.

In the last half-hour I realized how absurd all these worries are. I need to be the old Peter, the one who thinks, sure, I'll do it. No worries.

An attitude change. I am sick of this worrying about circumstances. I've lived on four continents and, last year, I got on a plane to go get a job halfway across the world. If it matters to me, I'll do it. If I don't get into Berkeley, I'll go to Minnesota. If I'm not ready for a PhD, I'll get an MA and go from there. Time is a-wasting, and nobody ever gained a thing from doubting themselves.