Some time ago, during my last existential crisis, I decided to start some (more) postgrad study, this time in philosophy. I did a fair bit of it as an undergrad, and really liked it. I just like thinking. Unfortunately, medicine drained me of all forms of non-medical thought, for many years.
Then this year, my brain just came alive again, and I was *bored*. Even though I work ungodly hours, there was something horribly unsatisfying - unfortunately, medicine is more mindless repetition and pattern-recognition than actual thinking.
So now I'm studying critical metaphysics. I love it. So much. I love how it twists and bends my mind. I love how I can read one philosopher and become completely enamored with their worldview, and then next week read someone else and think "pffft.. I don't know what that last guy was thinking. This new guy rocks!" So maybe I haven't really mastered the "critical" part of the metaphysics, but its still lots of fun.
But for all my love of learning, I still procrastinate, and life has been a bit rough lately - makes it rough to keep up my reading. So tonight, when I couldn't sleep, I started reading some Spinoza. And as much as he is now my new favourite philosopher ( I mean, this guy totally predicted quantum physics. In the 17th century!! That's crazy!) he's also a great tranquiliser, and I'm now all ready to sleep. Two reasons to love Spinoza.
I'm proud of myself for pursuing my passion for philosophy, even when I'm overwhelmed. It makes me feel more myself than anything else I do, and its something I do purely for me. I'm never going to get a better job because I understand substance monism. But I think it reminds me to be more human. And that's gotta be worth it.