half-assed hypochondria

How things inevitably go wrong, but I wrought the pattern with intention.

My professor says, "I'm Geertzian with respect to the fact that I believe no one can be without religion the same way no one can be without language."
I said, "In that case, if I were to claim a religion for myself, it would be language."

Then I remembered how, in my application essay to New School, I wrote how, "Even before I knew how to read, I've been fascinated by letters." Then I related an anecdote telling how in Kindergaarten, during play time, I used to just tap the keys on the old type writer in the room. I didn't know what the letters stood for and if I spelled any words it was through the great unlikelihood that I would randomly strike a series of keys that would spell a word. There was just something utterly enthralling about watching those strange symbols appear on the paper. I took to language very easily. In second grade I read and mostly understood The Call of the Wild. By third grade I was reading at a sixth grade level. By sixth grade I was reading at an eighth grade level.

Letters have been my gateway into the world of infinite imaginative possibility, and it is in that infinite creative potential that the real ingenuity of free will reveals itself.

Not only can the words themselves be beautiful to hear, but the letters themselves can be represented as art.

With some regularity I receive compliments on my handwriting. Once while checking out at the Strand the cashier complimented my signature on my receipt. I told him "Thanks. You'll want it in a book someday." My brother often remarks about my lack of humility, but I am just secure in the knowledge that people will want to read my writing. I have received unsolicited praise of my writing throughout the various tiers of my education. The first time I can remember is my AP US History teacher junior year of high school.


(I don't know my blood type, but can I have one of your kidneys?)