In Progress Essay 1 - How to Write

Last update: A long time ago. Has not been ran through grammarly.

The past two months of my life have been defined by a certain Kafkian undertone, fulfilling my obligations to society and satisfying external worldly measurements of success during the day, while pursuing artistic endeavours through the night. The day-to-day operations of my workweek are routined down to the hour. While I find meaning in productivity and creativity, at my core, there are nomadic impulses beating with wanderlust. As such, I occasionally break the overall monotonized itinerary with interludes of seemingly aimless adventure. A recurring company to my recent adventures, let’s refer to her as Mophead (I’ve always thought that there was a practical utility to her voluminous curls beyond the aesthetics so this epithet fits), joined me for a recent excursion which sparked a cathartic synthesis of a series of fragmented experiences to connect within an overarching narrative. We were at a bar downtown long after the sun’s lights has dimmed to give way to the vibrancy of the Vancouver nightlife. In the energetically Dionysian atmosphere of the city you could find a little corner table for two, where we sat equally energetic in our chattering away about all that is ridiculous, interesting, and beautiful. I was lamenting my writer’s block with my current piece. I wanted to map all that I’ve learned about life within the analysis of four contemporary TV shows (Parks and Recreation, Euphoria, Bojack Horseman, and After Life) in an autobiographical story-telling of deeper existential inquiries similar to the structure of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It would be, at once, a discussion of archetypal motifs of the evolution of different modes of being manifested in contemporary art and the life of a modern individual, myself. I couldn’t figure out a way to structure this piece in a way that was not compartmentalized and systematic like academic writing (i.e. boring) because I wanted to tell a compelling story with an overarching narrative. However, I didn’t want to dabble too deep into metaphysical poetic prose because I’m not a good enough writer to maintain clarity of thought through the flowery semantics. The dilemma was that writing (especially an article) is inherently linear so how can I capture the essence of life in its multidimensional progressions, regressions, and states of stagnancy? And mapping its essence in the analysis of these TV series and within my own life? And to have a coherent narrative? I was doing too much. To focus too much on the broader themes would strip its resonance to the individual lived experience but similarly to zero in too much on an individual might alienate audiences. It is a juggling act balancing the two but it is necessary to maintain a certain level of readability if not anything. The other intellectual intersection I was at was where exactly am I going with this piece? What question(s) am I trying to answer? What new perspective or definition am I providing to what exactly? I had a general concept in mind which was the art of life, but what is it’s exact constitution? The process of maturity? Growing up? Yes but these terms are often used in the context of the coming-of-age adolescence journey into adulthood but I wanted to get at something more universal. Adulthood isn’t a constant you fall into, it’s an ever-changing maze where every twist and turn, up and down, is a new undergoing of maturation. Despite how they manifest in each individual’s life, I wanted to extract out the existential commonalities and themes.

At this point, Mophead, despite her usual literary sensibility and tact, appeared a bit puzzled with my abstract complaints. People usually ask what to write, and not how to write. She sympathized with these dilemmas but she thought, in reality, you could very well write about non-linear concepts in a linear and structured way. Realizing that I’m steering this conversation down a rather unproductive path, I shift gears as I genuinely wanted her input. Abstract philosophizing doesn’t align with her thought process as well as concrete examples do so I pulled out my phone to show her the horrendously organized 3,800 word draft I had written so far (I was only ⅓ of the way done). I was hoping that if anyone could give it the Midas touch to salvage shit into gold, it was her. And so, we ordered another round of margarita and went into the nitty-gritty. We go back and forth from us reading the draft together, to me explaining what the hell it is I mean with a certain section, to detouring and discussing the themes and ideas.

“That kid is mature”

Is a sentence that I never heard directed towards me until late into my teenage years. The individualistic, rambunctious, and curious dreamer I was and still am doesn’t fit the archetype of maturity. But what does that even mean? Personality or character descriptions aren’t really objective, it’s hard to conceptualized the ultimate mode of what it means to be happy, brave, kind, or passionate. Any attempt to create such a definition risks stripping it so far out from reality that it has no practical applications. As such, we understand traits as relatives, a moving scale that expands and morphs with experience. Much of what I understood as maturity was informed by the chatter and behavior of other people, especially at school, from my family, and from other social gatherings like church.

During adolescence, maturity had little to do with experience or knowledge or acquired wisdom but mainly to do with behavior. Maturity was often conflated with responsibility, obedience, and reservation. The mature kid was often the shy and meek one in the room. It was often associated with a distinct nerdiness and social awkwardness, not always, I have met very socially savvy youngsters who were considered mature was that was very few and far between. And the one commonality across those social yet mature outliers was that they weren’t interested in interacting with children their age, they liked to mingle with the adults. When they did have to babysit their peers they knew how to play with them like a fiddle and knew how to incentives other kids to do their bidding. It was a real interesting sight to see, they had this third person awareness of the absurdity of their age group’s internal and external routines. Sociability in respects to children tend to be accompanied with a certain lighthearted carefreeness and joie de vivre which entertained the interested of other children, and I suppose mature people don’t seek the company of snot-faced children. At the same time, it wasn’t uncommon historically for kings, holymen, and monks to play along with children in their ridiculous games of make-pretend. I recall one story about a king who would let children ride on his back as he neighed and grunted like a horse. Wouldn't someone held in the highest esteem by society or God be seen as mature? Well certainly but children aren’t concerned with the nuances in the definition of maturity. I recall not caring about maturity or growing up at all. I just saw it as meaningless and boring. No one during those years of childhood aspired to be mature so we didn’t care for challenging the definition.

Maturing and growth are often used as interchangeable concepts but I think that there are slight nuances in use. Maturity is often conflated with responsibility