Here's a bit of jaded student wisdom: always temper expectations. Let's specify: (1) don't let an unfamiliar professor catch you being smart at the beginning of term and stupid at the end; (2) don't tell people every detail of a grand plan then fail to get them all done. It's better to (1) look stupid at the beginning of term and look smart at the end, and (2) it's better to give people a sketch then astound them with everything you've been able to fill in.
My intuition is that this is pretty much bullshit. But for the last couple of weeks, it feels like it's come from a burning bush.
All of this is a kind of mea culpa. I haven't blogged in quite some time. I've been caught up in work (too much of it), extracurriculars (far too many of them), and a crippling writers' block that can only come from a combination of reading writing about writing and a sudden gush of expectations.
Of course, I have things I want to say; no one loves the sound of their own voice--or the look of their own prose--more than I (except maybe Republican congressmen). I just haven't had the time, or the ability, to spit it the fuck out. The last time I tried to write a blog post, all that came out was this:
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
You see the problem.
The next post should shed some light on my crippling expectations-related writers' block, but, for now, all you need to know is that I'm back. If you're good.
Also, there's a chance (not a big one, mind you) that I'll have some exciting and possibly hit-inducing news about the future of this blog. So, stay tuned for that.
|