I moved to the basement bedroom this week, so a new roommate could have my room upstairs. She's a good friend of my other roommate who owns the place, and she had visited a little while back and had a really strong feeling that she needed to be out here when she stayed in that bedroom. Blah blah blah, I had been asked before if I'd be okay with living down here in the basement - with my own bathroom - if this girl moved in, and I said I could probably make that work. I didn't anticipate it happening after I moved in, as it didn't sound like she was actually going to come. But then one day, everything was settled and the question of me moving resurfaced.
At first, I wasn't super excited about the idea, but I had said it could probably work, and we needed a 3rd roommate, so I sucked it up and figured I could at least handle it for a few months and then I could try to sell my contract if needs be. And once we sprayed and killed the bugs that had moved in over the last weekend, I felt much better about it (Note: Chris, that spider really was huge, no exaggeration - I know you were thinking it. My roommate wasn't going to believe me either, until she saw it and agreed that it filled more of the tupperware than one would want to see).
The problem of moving again, though, is that I have to organize again...sigh. So my room is a slight mess - though there's a lot more room for the mess to be in now - but I spent tonight trying to get everything a little bit more settled. As I was moving things around, I picked up some binders I keep close to my bed, wondering where to put them now, and between the binders, I found the book I had to put together for my Senior Writing Seminar class of my favorite writing pieces. So I snuggled into my bed and took some time perusing some of my better papers and essays.
The teacher I had for this class was a huge fan of C.S. Lewis, so when I had to come up with a name for this collection, the teacher I T.A.'ed for tried to help me by thinking of ways we could change Lewis book titles for me. Some of our favorites were "The Problem of Kate" (the original is the Problem of Pain), "The Great Kate" (Divorce), and "The Chronicles of Kate" specifically, "The Lion, The Witch, and the Kate." My teacher's absolute favorite though, was his idea of "Mere Kate-ianity," to play on "Mere Christianity." Oh the humor teachers have...
I ultimately went with "A Writer Observed" (based off of "A Grief Observed), for a few reasons - a.) I like Lewis and since the idea was already passed on to my current teacher and made him laugh, it seemed okay to do (he even had some other silly options for me to consider); b.) I really hate thinking of titles and I'm terribly bad at it, so having the work already half done was something I couldn't walk away from; and c.) it felt quite egotistical and awkward to posit my name in the title, so the much simpler "Writer" won out, and this one seemed most fitting for what this collection was actually about. Plus, "Mere Kate-ianity" was always hard for me to say - I kept putting in more syllables and tripping over the whole thing.
I had a great time reading through my old essays and literary analyses, and I appreciated the fact that at one point I was really smart and wrote pretty well. Maybe one day I'll be like that again. Honestly though, I wrote some rather decent essays, if I may say so myself.
My favorite part of re-reading my papers is generally when I come across a line or a thought I remember being really excited to put to incorporate into the piece. Tonight, that came when I was reading an essay we had to write for the Senior Seminar class, pondering on being an authentic person and what that meant, and if we were living authentically. We were given completely free reign to write this however we wanted to, so I wrote it in a segmented form, switching between paragraphs of memories, contemplation, and philosophical theories (it sounds smarter and deeper than it actually probably is). But I got to the point near the end where I'm considering that I sometimes have a tendency of blocking out the parts of me I don't like so that I don't see them, which I then think means that no one else can see them either - kind of a peek-a-boo game like we play with kids, or like when Zach would hide under the covers in our parents' bed and say he wasn't there, because he couldn't see us.
So I'm recognizing that this is a trait I sometimes have, but that it really doesn't work like I think it does. And I draw this great picture when I explain - "My blindness doesn't block those things from others' view; it really just makes everyone else feel bad to see that I'm so oblivious to the hypothetical toilet paper stuck to my foot. It leaves me in the dark of a secret that I started."
The Hypothetical Toilet Paper - GENIUS! A giant grin broke over my face as I read that line, specifically for 2 reasons: a.) it's beautiful imagery, am I right? LOVE IT; and b.) I remembered being so proud of that line when I originally wrote it. I shared it with my friend, gushing with creative excitement and the feeling that I really needed to get some more sleep at night, and he just laughed and rolled his eyes at me. Then he asked if I was actually going to keep that in my paper, and when I said, "of course!" he turned and walked away from me.
It was a long essay with a lot of introspection and thought and research involved, and I felt like that thought breathed new life into the essay and kept it alive through to the end. I think it's great, and I'm already trying to think of what I can use that idea in again to spread the joy and wisdom with others.
I also realized that this wasn't a new thing for me to write something rather odd in the middle of an essay, particularly regarding personal essays. I've found evidence of interesting imagery and 'creative' writing in a lot of my writing - call me adventurous, but I like to push the boundaries when it comes to classy, professional writing. But I will say this - it's never out of place or unthoughtful. At least you can feel confidant that when strange, odd lines come out and into my writing, you can know that I put a lot of thought into expressing myself in such an odd way. I didn't just vomit my thoughts and feeligns haphazardly onto the paper, you know?
No comments:
Post a Comment