Another day without writing
I say it’s a day without writing, but it isn’t really. It’s a day without a coherent project, a day without work on the thesis, a day without anything substantial.
I can’t think of a day I’ve had without writing in any type. A day without email, Twitter, Facebook, text messages, notes. I write every day, but most days it’s of little substance. It’s a passing few words, going towards no goal other than the briefest communication. At the same time, those little bits of writing are what define me. They trace out my existence.
That sort of writing is my ephemeral self. All I can hope is that, some day far in the future, when I’m long dead and no longer able to hide my scrawled notes to myself and ‘friends-only’ status updates, some researcher will be cursed with the task of figuring out the meaning behind them. Some day, I hope, some fellow academic will ponder the importance of these words. They will assign them meaning to justify their scholarships and grants, struggling to make them more than they are to fill the word count needed for their thesis.
It’s hugely big-headed of me, I know that. It assumes that I’d one day be worthy of study. But that assumption and hope is all that keeps me working some days.
Hopefully tomorrow my neck and shoulder won’t hurt quite so much, and I’ll be able to clean up my office enough to get on with something more substantial.