Obsessed with the timing of my externally imposed solitude because I got to process all my traumas and reckonings right before the new year and I do indeed feel like I’m Anew.
At some point you just have to look at stuff like this and say “skill issue.” This kind of defeatism is ahistorical. Serious intellectual life has always existed outside the modern university and will continue long after the modern university ceases to exist.
read with hunger. with jealousy. with the itch to know how the master did it. writing isn’t just born from inspiration. it's’s born from craft. and craft is studied, borrowed, stolen, honed. one sentence at a time.
There are books I couldn’t finish years ago that now feel like they were written for the version of me I’ve now become. And that’s the quiet magic of timing.
My tennis instructor heavily praised my first-time performance and I know it’s not for flattery because she’s Eastern European. I think I’m just good at everything I pursue at this point. All comes to me innately