The semester is almost over, which means institutional obligations are nearly up and I’ll feel vile for not doing anything with myself. About two months ago I proclaimed on the sinking ship that was my class blog that I would resurface in my own blog sometime soon, as soon as I came up with a name. Well, just now I came up with “Colorings,” based off of “Colors,” my new favorite CD that inspired me in such a way to today spill the beans in my mind to good friends. And in the face of slow loading, I formed this new blog just in the nick of time to divulge the most present thoughts on my mind. I plan to write on this blog every day until the beginning of the new semester, which with its two writing-intensive courses and four major courses promises to be the most challenging and important semester of my college career. With hope, this blog will keep me sharp or make me sharper just because I’m writing on it constantly. And for now I’m making it open for the public, ignoring the personally preferable ephemeral quality of writing. I’m not sure why right now, but it just feels right for me to be finally baring my soul, to some extent, to the online community.
Tonight I plugged in the filing cabinet of the future that is my jump drive and revisited essays from two years prior, written around the time when I made the decision to change my course in life from architecture to writing. I thought I was hot shit back then because everyone said I was a good writer. Now, two years, a world of trouble and a galaxy of new teachings later these compositions are not the magnum opuses I believed them to be. I cringed at my preoccupation with eloquence: too often the connotations intended for chosen words were extremely abstract. I was pouring my creative heart and soul into these simple responses to social science essays, thinking that the teachers were ready to revel in my grandiloquence and herald me the next Poe (though I didn’t know about Poe’s knowledge of the English language at this time). I used the passive tense too much and ignored proper structure. After three semesters of writing classes here at Rowan and a bit of extracurricular growth my writing has matured, and it continues to mature with every new effort to write. I believe that in six weeks, the approximate terminus prescribed to this confessional, I’ll be able to chart substantial growth in my abilities.
