Friday, May 19, 2006
(4:45 AM) | Adam Kotsko:
Friday Afternoon Confessional: What do I love when I love my blog?
I confess that today I was in denial about the onset of allergy season, meaning I have no decongestant on hand, meaning I have hardly slept.I confess that turning in my paper for Marion's class has given me a (probably unwarranted) feeling of liberation. I confess that I'm enjoying slipping into a new schedule now that the "state of exception" of paper-writing has been called off. I've tentatively decided that I'm going to spend an hour a day reading alternately German (Taubes) or Latin (Augustine). I hope to work my way through the world's only existing "Italian for Reading" book soon, but not before I'm done with the Nancy directed study (for which I still need to read The Birth to Presence, Derrida's book on Nancy, and Derrida's critique of Nancy in Rogues -- and then, the part that brings joy to my soul: going back through the texts and taking detailed notes). I confess that I sometimes despair of ever understanding what Nancy means by "sense." I confess that Nancy's use of "à même," usually translated as "right at," is one of my favorite things about his work.
I confess that I have spent far too much time on this blogfight to end all blogfights. It's now at over 250 comments, and there still seem to be enough outstanding issues to carry it through to 500. I confess that even though I complain about people approaching these discussions as a battle to be won, I feel deep satisfaction when I feel like I have won against such a person -- similar to the feeling that comes over me in a chess game where I know that my victory is becoming more and more inevitable. I confess that I often despair of ever feeling that wonderful feeling again, at least in chess games with Richard McElroy.
I confess that I get in blog fights like some people go outside for a cigarette and that sometimes I'm tempted to just try smoking instead. At least no one out there in the smokers' area complains at you that you're not putting enough effort into smoking. Although I guess maybe some people do smoke rings? I can't.
I confess to worrying that an article I sent to a journal will be rejected due to some kind of mix-up with my cover letter. I confess that if I'm going to keep trying to publish stuff, I'm going to need to get my hands on some CTS letterhead, to make people think I'm a professor. I confess that I know I'm not doing "as much as I could," but I feel like I've freed up a lot of energy just by getting myself to stop worrying about it so much -- no need to waste my finite mental resources on "meta" issues.
I confess that I feel very happy nowadays, even disconcertingly so. It's like I've overcome my tendency toward excessive self-examination. I used to worry that it was hurting the quality of the blog, but I even managed to shut that off.
I confess that my obsession with checking for the mail has only increased since I am now expecting a check any day now and am hoping for some kind of news about a particular long-delayed publication.
I confess that I have frequently referred to a literary publication held in very high esteem by certain of my blogging peers as "the best possible bathroom reading material -- the real top-shelf stuff." By comparison, I have compared The Atlantic Monthly to "vodka in a gallon plastic jug."
I confess that I bought "patriotic" cookies because I thought it would be funny and more importantly because I wanted cookies.
