I just finished my first paper of the quarter. The
weird thing is writing gets harder. You’d think that as you practice it would get
easier. Somehow it would become habitual, something you could just aimlessly do
in your sleep. But it doesn’t. You think about it more. As you read more you
realize how strange your sentences sound. Everything feels awkward, inadequate.
You also become more intellectually invested in whatever it is you're writing
about. As your understanding of the material increases, so does the need for
you to accurately depict or capture those moving revelations.
It’s as if
texts become complex people. You begin developing these entangled relationships.
You can’t just say “Hey, this is Joe. He’s an okay guy.” You’ve gotta sit with
him. Get inside his head. Maybe you hold him tenderly. Maybe you wrestle with
him at 3 a.m. But you see what makes him tick and come to understand that you
will never be able to pin down why and how Joe is who he is. That revelation is
both fascinating and terrifying. He simply can’t be reduced to one-dimensional
terms. Which makes you question if you will ever achieve success? Nevertheless,
you try to reveal at least one aspect. You try to show the world why he is great.
Why he is deplorable. How others can relate to him. Why anyone should give a
damn, all in the hopes that you can pass on why Joe moved you in the first
place. So, it isn’t just something you have to do to meet a deadline, but
sometimes it is something you MUST do it. Because if you don’t, it isn’t about
getting a crummy grade or impressing your peers, it’s about not honoring that
relationship. It’s because you won’t be able to sleep until you do that person
justice. Joe simply won’t leave you the fuck alone. You can go to BJ’s and
drink a beer or two. But he is still there. Waiting.
So, ya. It gets harder. But it feels damn good when
Joe finally gets off your back.
No comments:
Post a Comment