In Praise of the Convoluted Style

They say we should write every day: discipline. OK here goes. I write intermittently in my journal, using a pen & paper, a method I favor but which is unfortunately largely illegible to anyone else, partly by design (it’s a really very good way to keep it private) & partly because my thoughts outrun my pen, and the contest between them is a recurring example of the sacrifice of legibility to speed. However, this disjunction between expression and communicability keeps me in possibly a too-private world in the end, so here I go, trying it on in the virtual world. 

Today I feel really trashy in the personal not social sense, having been rejected from yet another employment opportunity, after investing a lot of time, energy, and feeling in the prospect of working at a job & location that initially appeared unattractive and unattainable anyway. The latter proved correct of course, while the former appeared increasingly through the process of approach not to be (correct, that is), which is not really any consolation. I find I can’t do these things without investing interest, however difficult it may initially be to drum it up, it always burgeons if I commit myself to the effort. I did meet some very nice people, who can complain about that?

Well everyone (practically) is familiar with this experience of not getting a job one (1) wanted and apparently also (2) needed badly to one degree or another; there can’t possibly be anything to add through the mediation of my comments on it, but that’s what’s with me today, so sorry, world of virtual communication, you get unemployment, specifically rejection after investment of significant effort, as your opening topic today.

Other comments: along the line of ‘no sincere effort is wasted,’ in the process of becoming even more knowledgeable about social media than I already was (within the library context) – which turns out to rather more beyond the average for my age & disposition than I expected – I discovered – much to the distaste of the literary, technical, and social snob in me – that getting more involved in Twitter has yielded access to a surprising & pleasing crop of connections who have provided really interesting information. Here I reveal myself to be old school in the disguise of a (relatively for my age) hip & tech-savvy writer-librarian. Books, paper, typography . . . still most beautiful.

One of my biggest barriers to communication is how tired of myself I so easily become, especially of my thoughts & words. Perhaps a condition endemic to writers, but I haven’t heard anyone else complain specifically of that dystopia of the spirit (crap, I don’t read enough is probably why). You might ask, if that’s the case, why bother to place this self of which you are so tired in the public view? Probably to give someone else that opportunity?