I never intended to organize my life. When my middle school handed out agendas that had our school calendar printed inside. This was a simple way for us to organize our simple days. We were given general instructions on how to use them by our teachers. It made sense. We had more classes, we moved more often, and we had multiple assignments to track. It changed the way I thought about school and my day.
Until then, classes felt linear. Middle school began diversifying topics and methods. I kept my classes organized dutifully if not legibly. I used my agenda for doodling, scribbling down song lyrics, and listing my favorite Peanuts comics (I liked the winter and summer strips best). Sometimes I would read my agenda. I loved seeing the progression of the year. It helped to externalize time and work. This also showed how interconnected the classes were and how I grew in my education.
I kept agendas all through college, but I began keeping a journal consistently in 2018. My earliest entries were mostly fragments that sometimes made sense. I thought I never wrote enough. When I read them today I see something different. I see someone frustrated, sad, and angry. They appear different from who I am now, but they were trying to make sense of the world as much as I am still.
I was a cynical, angry asshole. Being an asshole is forgivable, I was in my twenties after all, but the anger and cynicism were laughable. I thought I was pretty damn smart too and I wanted to be taken seriously. It's a good thing journals are a private place. It was better that I worked through those mistakes and embarrassments in a controlled environment. And it paid off. I noticed my writing improved when I began writing to learn.
I read Will Zinsser's Writing to Learn and Writing Well. These changed my approach to my personal writing. I focused on writing to myself, as myself. Before, my writing would be analytic, but unfocused. My writing instruction focused on the formal essay and research paper. My journals reflected this. I reserved all the explanation for my audience– the instructor and expert on the subject– and not for myself. The problem with this approach was I did not write in a way that showed how my mind worked because I wrote for a particular end. I never reflected on how my reasoning took shape because I never saw it take shape. I was never compelled to reiterate and organize my thoughts.
This approach gradually changed my writing. When I focused on how I reasoned I entered the virtuous cycle of understanding. Understanding required me to reflect on each piece and how it fit in a larger context across disciplines to me personally. I enjoyed reading across disciplines, exploring patterns, and generating my own independent understanding. This wide-ranging approach satisfied my eclectic interests and my love of finding connecting ideas.
This process was comprehensive and rewarding. Reading my notes gave clearer insights. I learned this is what I should have been doing all along. My composition classes in high school were good, but this minor change in my approach would have made a big impact on my writing in college and onward.
Shortly after posting this entry, I was recommended this short video essay about how self-help books are becoming less popular. I work with books, and I have noticed a similar trend among readers. I see more people reading fiction and classic works. I felt I needed to clarify one thing in my essay. The point of reading and writing to learn is not merely to extract the most important pieces of information. The practice is meant to connect you with the ideas that move culture, not just pass an exam or be great at trivia. Connecting emotionally with great works of fiction and non-fiction is the work of reading and writing well.
There is more to be said about this, but that will be for another essay.