Monday, January 21, 2013

cogency is overemphasized, captain

    Dear Harriet Walter,

    At the end of a very long weekend, just now freshman Kiley and I were in the bathroom, I  rinsing my mouth out after brushing my teeth and she washing her face in the sink, when we had a Moment which I think spoke to the nature of dorm life as a whole.

      I raised my head and said, "Why do I smell pesto?"

     Kiley said, "and why did I just hear a flute? Playing music?"

    We were both just tired enough to be nearly crying with laughter even before we figured out that Kiley had been hearing Danielle's singing from the shower ("you were singing?" "no that was actually my shower flute" "Do it again! ....woah flute voice!") and I was smelling Kiley's foaming face wash. ("Can I smell your face? ...yeah that's what it is, some sort of isolated pesto-ish element is wafting away and that's what I smelled." "Haha, pesto-face!")

    Oh my word it's only week 2. We're all gonna die.

    Over break I was looking back over the very few posts I made over the course of last semester and thinking, wow, that does not even begin to approach adequacy as a representative journal of that time. There were so many things I did and thought, so many places I went, so many people I interacted with and ideas I engaged and papers I wrote and everything, that are completely not even hinted at because I just don't blog as much I used to. Like, there almost wasn't a point to writing at all. I can't decide whether to be discouraged from even trying or inspired to try harder, or maybe just rethink the purpose of all writing I ever do for fun. I don't even have time for creative writing, especially not now with 18 credits. I wrote some kinda funny poems for a couple open mic nights last semester, and they were well received and that was basically enough for me. (Open mic nights are way fun in a close-knit community.) Like ok that's enough nonessential writing for now, I'll hold onto the old dream of writing stories in some foggy future day when my life is a different beast but for now it's time to read history books. And meanwhile the way I look at the world and process events/thoughts is changing and I seem to be getting more reserved in some ways and less so in others and it's weird and things are weird and weird is weird and weird weird weird.

1 comment:

  1. To everything there is a season, and a time for every weirdness under heaven.
    A time to blog, and a time to blab, and a time to shut up and study.
    A time to reflect, and a time to rub pesto into your pores.
    A time to grow tall, and a time to grow broad, and moan about how fat you're getting.
    A time to think deeply, a time to think widely, and a time to quit thinking and let the flute sing you to sleep.
    Love, Mom