I Dislike Coming Up With Titles

I have been shirking my blogging duties. There are several excuses I have to offer, only as a matter of moderate interest. First, I have been writing a great deal, but it is not the sort of thing meant for this particular platform of ideas. I've been throwing around the idea of writing a book, and have a few ideas that are plodding along well enough for someone who is reminding himself semi-frequently that he is only twenty.

I have also been trying to work on an article for the Lode. Actually, I've written several of them, and am now hoping that the editor calls upon me this week for one of them. I was rather perturbed last week when he printed two of his own, one of which proceeded to call out the fellow from Iran for his foolish remarks stating that there wasn't a Holocaust. Of course, I have what Flannery O'Connor calls "Catholic smugness" that would allow me to commit to writing the entirety of the editorial page for a given week would they let me. My editor is not so foolish as that, for though I would very much like to do that, at least for a week, it would probably make for a boring read to most of the school population.

Yet I am still not too happy about my editor's selection. Though I could impugn his writing ability without too much guilt, it is probably unchristian to do so. But as T.S. Eliot notes, "Editors are bad writers, but so are most writers." That would seem to apply to the poor Lode, which it must be remembered, is the paper of a university known for its engineering.

I promise I shall post my articles at some point, hopefully sooner rather than later. There is another reason for the delay, though. Whether from a resurgence of the perfectionism that I firmly is buried somewhere inside me, or a simple matter of a temporary funk, I've been none too pleased with the writing I've managed to do in recent times. Perhaps that will change. I'm not too worried about it.