An exercise in epistolary matters

Dear D of the future from D of the present, now already past:

Yes, it's been a struggle and I've been clawing to maintain my literary-ness, the exuberance that Art and art instills in me. Yes, I know I use intellectualism as a defense--these words and phrases like "metonymy," "spatiality of chroma," and "aphasia"--because inherently they are emotionally distancing and I can easily make the claim that, no my soul is not invested, but the irony is that my soul is invested. The worst part is the I can feel the calcification of my mind taking place, the slow but sure sedimentation and eventual petrification that will take place. Am I so old as to only be able to reminisce about the elasticity of my mind?

I am seriously considering taking the GREs and applying to programs in English. But here I have the opportunity to do a lot of immediate and tangible good. It would be so much easier if I actually wanted to be a doctor and go to med school, and in all earnestness: I want to effect change; I want to do good for others. Yes, intellectualism can alter cultural tides and transform the archives (as Foucault used the term) that dictate our mental schema and interactions with each other's realities (shared, individual, and implied), but all too often the world of academia and artistry can seem all too masturbatory.

But hey...just keep writing.


D