Jumping In
I like to listen to Such Great Heights by the Postal Service when I start writing papers. There’s something outstanding about the beat and the build up and the crescendos and all that. There’s something that pushes you along in a way that almost forces artistic creativity. There’s something that induces that acute — albeit crucial — instant of academic internalization where you realize that you do have something to say, that you know how to say it, and that, yes, in fact, you want to express yourself in this way. It’s the important moment, and one that is imperative in all kinds of writing, where your hazy nebulous thoughts collide with your repertoire of words. It’s their conversation. It’s the marriage of the intangible that is your thoughts and the tangible that is your words.
Knowing that this moment will come, always, is what makes writing things manaegable. And it’s why I think that people who are intimidated by the prospect of composing things are not giving themselves enough credit. Because it will come. The frustrating part, like bubbling relationships, is when there is flirting. But nothing real. The thoughts and the words are there but not there. So then the instant it all kind of clicks into place is a miraculous one. And it’s only made better by good music and a really comfortable chair.
