clark debonair.

Legal writing is a beast unlike any other. It forces a person like myself, who generally follows only the pattern of my mind’s flow and the spontaneous interaction with words that find themselves grasped and thrust upon the page, to box thoughts into carefully stacked syllogisms.

I’ve gotten better with my organization of thoughts, and of folding issues into one another, but I just do not have the intuition that I think is necessary to really excel in legal writing.

I much prefer an ordering of things in disorder, which is why I take music theory only so far in my appreciation of music, why I only look to meter sparingly in verse. I desire the innate, natural rhythm of my voice and in a tone that I find subjectively beautiful. I play with melodies that resonate to me. 

Professors call this imprecision, which I think the irony in utilizing large labels as such is self-evident. Sure, I skip important steps in the puzzle–I’m a student of the law after all. There comes a point, though, when writing has been modulated so much by form that it no longer is my voice at all.

Having entertained the idea, I do hope my professional writing skills continue to be polished–just not at the expense of what I love about personal writing. If anything, I hope a sharper understanding of legal writing enlightens all my other writing with something a little more mature and insightful.

Dear E-Mail Sovereign:

Please do away with the red (sometimes black, still obnoxious) exclamation point that sits beside purportedly extra important e-mails in my inbox. Career Services has abused this function so much that I don’t even know what is important anymore. Also, anytime anything is lost throughout the law school (and nearby roads, according to one e-mail), this troublesome exclamation point reveals itself.

As a general rule, it makes me nervous. I don’t mean ill to people that have opposing standards as to what merits the urgency of the exclamation point. I merely hope to relieve myself of some unnecessary anxiety, which is proximately magnified by the presence of a red exclamation point. This character (in every sense of the word) instructs me and nags me that I absolutely must read another e-mail that has a high percentage chance of being no more important than any other e-mail lingering in my mailbox sans exclamation point. I appreciate your concern.

Sincerely, 

Clark

So, I am back to it. There are already a lot of things to juggle in this bustling fall quarter. I can feel myself assuredly adapting to the idea of this being a constant, though. 

I had a wonderful break, which I might elaborate upon tomorrow (otherwise never). So much comes to mind that I fear listing all of those ideas right now would suck me into a full-blown post. I’ll spare that for this very reason. 

Every young comrade I talk to is facing/has faced the realization of the laboring years. It’s scary, but the sort of scary that provides well-needed pressure to stimulate a creative thinking about calling and work and identity thrown all in the misty midst of that.

Laughter is my tonic, my cure from self. Taking myself too seriously breeds stress and resentment. Not taking myself seriously enough spawns unease and purposelessness. 

It is my hope to return to this tomorrow.