In 2017 I had a composition course with a professor whose concept of writing differed violently from my own preference, that is of a style that values more economy with words, much as Hemingway did. Well Hemingway was a bit of a twat and Old Man and the Sea wasn’t very good. In this year, yet another style of writing that went against my style, and yet in a completely different way compared to that which was previously stated. The core of this new one was personal experience and pathos, that which I may or may not have cast aside. As one can imagine, not something that particularly goes nicely with my shibboleths of abstraction, much as a green felt chair with cheese stains with the decor of a pretentious Seattleite’s apartment. However, the combination of both extremes pulling me allowed for me to take a third option and go beyond that which was proscribed. It also made me a tiny bit better at adapting to the more conventional ideas, though I still have a preference for that which is experimental and a bit more lyrical, if it masks writing bereft of actual quality, much as the illusion of competence props up certain figures in public society. The reaction against that which I detest and something I am less liable to immediately dismiss has also made me consider the use of certain devices I may have neglected or not had the confidence to use some time ago. However, this may be waxing lyrical in a bid to score points, as the office sycophant does.

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