Have you ever started writing an email to someone only to realize that you can't think of an appropriate subject line? So you just leave it blank, (no subject). But somehow, that ends up being much more appealing to the person on the other side. The person only needs to see your name as the sender, and the ambiguity of (no subject) intrigues them all the more. Or so the justification for my inability to craft a witty title for my first post goes.
The inspiration for this blog is actually the kind that is supposed to be responsible for most instances of brilliance throughout history: boredom. Or rather, having an array of rather good options but nothing forcing you to do one thing. I guess I chose the one that required the least amount of concerted effort--starting a blog at the behest of a clever and equally bored friend.
Restlessness is discontent and discontent is the first necessity of progress. Show me a thoroughly satisfied man and I will show you a failure. Thomas A. Edison
So today I'm going to write about how time passes in strange ways. Last night as I was falling asleep I couldn't help thinking about how absurdly quickly my 5 weeks in Minnesota has passed by. At the same time, the prospect of 5 more weeks seemed inconceivably long. It's like this: I want to be enjoying every minute of summer but I also can't wait for September to come and whisk me back to school. Nietzsche said that humans alone are cursed because we have the capacity for memory; the ability to look back to our past allows us to become anxious over how our future will be spent. But I think this tendency manifests itself most fully when I am not feeling productive. And by not feeling productive I mean when I spend long stretches of time supposedly working on something (for example, an internship) and don't feel like I'm producing anything of great value. With not much to occupy my thoughts, my mind is let loose to dwell on silly things like this. And yet the great American inventor Thomas Edison put it this way:
Being busy does not always mean real work. The object of all work is production or accomplishment and to either of these ends there must be forethought, system, planning, intelligence, and honest purpose, as well as perspiration. Seeming to do is not doing.
Also, one last thing before I conclude this first post: the namesake of this blog intially came from the blue PilotG2 pen sitting next to my laptop on the fateful afternoon when I decided to start writing. I was using it to correct a piece I wrote for my internship and couldn't think of anything better at the time. This was about 2 weeks ago. Now, as I look back on how long I've spent on this single post, revising and adding to it periodically, I realize that 'a blue correction pen' perfectly describes the nature of my writing process. I am constantly deleting and rewriting, even as I am typing this sentence. It might say something about my personality as well--that I'm constantly checking and reevaluating the person I project to the world, obsessing over every impression I make.
And here's another confession: this is not my first blog. Way back in the early days of the blogsphere there was something called Xanga, on obsession that I picked up in the 6th grade. I cringe to even think of the thoughts I made public then, and I refuse to re-read past entries, let alone the comments people left about them. But in spite of the change I hope I've undergone (I'm pretty sure I've developed more of a filter since middle school), one thing about my writing remains the same: then and now, I am constantly rewriting and revising my posts, ever reluctant to publish them unless I can be sure that they pass every test of grammar, tact, readability, and interesting-ness. Case in point: I'll probably come back in a few days and replace "interesting-ness" with a synonym that is an actual word.
