Friday, April 5, 2013

The Long Arm of Gravity

Spring Break. A whole nine days without school. Hurrah.

And yet: external forces keep breaking in.

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Notes on what helps me, personally, get stuff done on break:
  • Get up before 1000
  • Do things that could (but won't) drag on indefinitely in the morning (i.e. researching colleges)
  • Do something rigorous before eating lunch (i.e. practicing an instrument)
  • Do something different in the afternoon than what you did in the morning
  • Go on long walks in mid-afternoon (1500-1700)
  • Read after coming back
  • Underestimate what you can get done after dinner
  • Get off the computer before 2300

Your mileage may vary.

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Do I sound self-satisfied? I'm not, really. It is Friday and I look at the writing I've done and...there's not much of it.

The future is springing up on me: AP testing, finals, the grim specter of college applications. This week, I must confess, was spent mostly catering to these kinds of things. Though I shouldn't use the word "cater": the studying and research I did this week are important, and I feel more prepared for taking on the next month and a half after having done them. But I am really a selfish person and I regret that I couldn't do more for myself this week.

Visualize, if you will, a potential energy well: a deformation in space-time. Here, I'll help.

(source)

The planet in the center is the future of my education and I am obliged to bow to its influence. Obligations are the property most apparent, the most visible evidence of how things are linked. I knew I was made of matter long before I knew I had atomic nuclei.

The strong force holds protons together. Its power, as you might guess from the name, is immense. And yet it has little T-Rex arms, and operates only on short distance. You can't see it in action directly the way you can see that an apple will fall if you let it go.

Everything I do for myself - writing, creating, learning stuff outside of school is somewhat analogous to the strong force. Well, it's a little more apparent than that - let's call it electromagnetism. It generates counter-intuitive effects (electrons fall up; short poems may cause more headaches than long stories), it's immensely powerful (art is the opposite of violence, yes?), and if it didn't operate, we creators, we Reapers and Rejoicers, would fall apart.

But it can be difficult to justify, even to yourself, the merits of working on the story instead of the school project, making character designs instead of study guides. Even if you're falling to sleep over your notes and quizzes, even if you know you'd work late into the night reworking that plot twist - there is guilt. Your story takes a hard right and you don't know if it's because it'll make the story more interesting or if you're just plain out of ideas. Instead of figuring that out, why don't you go analyze someone else's rhetoric?

I'm sorry to sound bitter. I did enjoy reviewing Maclaurin series, and I do love me some improper integrals. But sometimes, I wish I could seize the long arm of gravity, and break it.

1 comment:

  1. If anything, stretching your writing legs further develops your unique writing voice, which can be a critical point in your college application essays.

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