Thoughts approaching 1 am.

It's late. A typical night in Edinburgh - taxis drifting up and down the Cowgate, picking up the revelers as they stumble out of the nearby pubs and clubs, often with raised voices to match their raised spirits (and blood alcohol level). And there's me, pyjamas on but with no intention of sleeping yet. Hair thrown back, glasses on, laptop open in front of me. My phone sits to my left in order for me to continue the multiple vaguely anonymous games of virtual scrabble I'm currently involved in, and to my right is a half full mug of strong, sweet black coffee.

One more reading, I tell myself. One more, then it's bedtime. It doesn't matter. I know that I've lost my concentration again. There's a surprising amount in one small room that can distract you when you know you should be focused. It seems I tend to put a lot of work into not working. Only when there's something I know I should be doing do I realise that there are dishes to wash, cupboards to tidy, carpets to vacuum, nails to paint. Like I say, anything to not be working.

The problem with this mindset, as you can imagine, is that when it comes down to it, the point when really, something needs to be done, the motivation is fleeting. I manage a few sentences of M Eggleton's research on New Religious Movements and then suddenly, I recall that song I haven't downloaded yet or that tv episode that just aired, and I'm off again on another mindless pursuit of something not related to my real life.

Then I start to wonder: why is that? What is it that makes me look for distractions, not only when it comes to coursework, but with everything? I mean, there's nothing in my life that is so horrible that I feel the need to escape from it into some fantasy world, thank goodness. Maybe I'm just uninterested. I mean, I do enjoy myself, and I care about my friends and family, but sometimes I wonder what it is I'm doing with my life. How did I get here? When I was younger I always knew what I wanted to be. Granted, that did change fairly regularly but there was always something to aim for: nurse, vet, teacher, doctor, lawyer. I did get more ambitious as I got older, it seems. Nowadays though, I have no idea what I want. I don't even know what I can do with the degree I've chosen other than be a teacher or interpreter, neither of which hold great appeal if I'm honest.

So what happens when you lose interest in life? Pick your favourite school subject, because you know you want to go to university, you just don't know what for. Drift along, getting maximum results from minimal effort (although this theory will fail you in your last year of school. That doesn't matter, you're already moving on to the next step). Get lost in a world of French grammar, historical linguistics, subtitled films, alcohol (let's be honest, I am a student), analysing cults and learning about efforts to teach monkeys to talk. Why? Because what else are you going to do with yourself?

So, one more reading before bed. Or another coffee and an episode of Firefly. One day I'll find my calling.