Kevin is watching a recorded lecture for an introduction to Japanese class. And it’s bewildering how stressful it is. The lecturer approaches the end of the session with instructions how to sign up for the mailing list and how important it is and I’m feeling residual panic.

And I finally figure out what it is. Gotta pay attention gotta stay focused. Despite the fact that I’m actually trying to do something else entirely.

And suddenly I understand a whole lot more about my stress, and what happened in college.

I think I probably only do well with lectures of 20 minutes or so. Longer lectures provoke madness via boredom, or, if I really care about a subject, a panicked, miserable attempt to stay focused.

I can’t go an hour with somebody talking at me without zoning out. If I have nothing else to do, like in the studio art 3-hour group critique sessions, it is a form of torture. That’s not really an exaggeration– one or two of those sessions and I abandoned plans for an art major. And I still think that if I hadn’t had that professor with his craziness, I would have really enjoyed and appreciated an art major.

I don’t learn well from lectures. I have trouble internalizing what I’m told. I prefer to read instructions, or have an interactive personal conversation, or try something out and learn from my mistakes. That’s my favorite method, really– I often don’t really understand what I’ve read without talking about it, writing about it or otherwise trying it out (unless it’s in the form of a narrative. I follow narratives exceedingly well.)

Augh lectures. Are you reading this, aunts, Dad? That’s what happened to college, all those classes I did poorly at and why I lost all motivation for staying at college once my social life disappeared. I have to limit myself to 2 hours of Wikipedia reading a day.  I am really interested in what this guy on Kevin’s tv is saying about how Japanese works. And yet– I have to go upstairs now to avoid panic. Because it’s a lecture, and I just can’t keep up.