It's been a while

I haven't written much lately. I suppose I can blame school for that, or my six-month-long coma, but why create excuses? I don't want to say I'm returning to blogging, just that it's nice to keep my writing honed. I mean, it's not like I haven't written. I've written for school, essays and such, but that doesn't stimulate my creative side. On the contrary, writing an essay is like traipsing sloppily through a math problem. It's all trial and error, and my good essays are those on which I got lucky.

So, an update for my friends: yes, I'm back in school. It'd been a long time, too long, and the reacclimation hurt more than jumping into an icy bath. I started fast and strong, but my efforts tapered with procrastination. I ended up reading approximately 30% of what was assigned and yet I somehow managed to pass my classes. I wrote a paper on Frankenstein and I hadn't read Frankenstein in almost ten years. I wrote papers on literary theorists without reading their work. I wrote a paper on how to perform CPR without knowing what CPR is. Cardiopulmonary reattachment, right? I got an A on that paper.

I got a much needed mental jolt at school. It was like jump-starting a dilapidated junker that was used to run moonshine and pick up street walkers.

I miss the days when I'd dribble metaphors in my sleep. Now I'm lucky if I can conjure a couple in a week. I hope to get that way again soon.

One thing's certain, though. A post like this would've taken me a long time to edit. It's like a poem, they're never done. Whitman worked on Leaves of Grass for decades. Frost, I think, felt the same way with his poems, short and sweet as they were. Eliot wrote The Wasteland over the course of several years. I guess it's not a good thing that I edit less. WHATEVS, I do what i want.