An Open Letter to MLA

Start time: I'll bet you're expecting it by now. Song: Aren't you curious? Mood: Guess



Dear Citations,

I hate you. Period. Because you require me to use so many periods.

In the triumph of reaching the finish, you beckon me with a bony finger "Come hither, you're not quite finished yet."

You ruin the euphoria of every moment, even the climactic declaration of word count or that epic moment when space expands and trees continue to be cut down so I can make you look more "professional," by which you mean "easier for my professor to bleed between the lines."

In all frankness, thanks to google books, you are no longer of any use to me. I can type in virtually and line of text and find exactly what I need. So, let's save a tree and skip the "Works Cited" page. If I wanna know, I'll google it.

You should be more environmentally friendly. Everybody's doing it. You're behind the times, MLA. Old news, I say.

To be completely honest, I've been spurning you for years, making up my own version. Classier, sleeker, easier, lazier. As you can tell by my use of punctuation in this letter, I don't like to follow the rules. I am a non-conformist.

Want to know something else? When I was spurning you for all those years, "doing my own thing" I was also having a torrid affair with APA. I admit it. He was ineffective and impossible in the long run, but initially... initially he was so easy. We had a good run. I was forced to come back to you. Everyone told me you were good for me, but I just didn't see it. Now here I am unable to avoid you.

So, MLA, if this is the way it is going to be, it'll be a bittersweet relationship. I need you, no doubt; but I don't have to like you.

Regret ably yours

End time: Not relevant. Song: Same one to which I've been listening for hours. Mood: ?

Take that English Paper!

Start time: 7h14 am Song: Where Foxes Hide Mood:Deranged

They came together for the joust. The lady doing a Joan in men's armor,
bracing herself for a knight of fierce battles.
One on horse of dapple gray, she prepared for the reversal of day.
The other, and Englishman of white and night astride his steed of starry light
ran at her with all his might.

And so she followed forth and fierce, that with her strength her weapon might
pierce. And yet he unhinged her from her horse, derailing from her intended course.
Yet she was not to be dismayed, she would not allow for any such
delays. She picked herself back up again and mounted her horse with renewed zen.

They took their places back in line, impatiently they counted time.
Then she threw her sword from where did hide and riding on stuck it in his side.
Yes, it was a cheap blow; but indeed you now know the determination she did show.
For when all was said and done, she: the victor. Yes, she'd won.

End time: 7h24 Song: "Where Foxes Hide" (still) Mood: Tired and deranged

Again

Start time: 2h59 am
Song "Batman" by Stefano Barone
Mood: Mischevious and a little bit ironic

My lungs are a lightbulb--glowing, glowing--brighter, brighter.
My fingers are laughing at the state of things--so tired they've become deranged.
I am water droplets of peace and excitement coming down in torrents.
There is no sun I do not see today. The end will come with healing in its hands
and exhale to the morning.

A thin, crooked smile belies my thoughts.
Dark and ironic, I'll never tell them outloud.
Instead I shrug my feathered shoulders and
glance away.

I will not speak today, I say.
I'll say my words with a sly flick of the brow,
a gesture you can't see. It's subtle.
That is the way with me.
And so I wrap you in my silence, tapping my toe
to your discomfort and desire to know.

End time: 3h06 am
Song: finished
Mood: Wouldn't you like to know.

Frenzied Free-write

Start time 6:05 pm. Song: Trouble With Dreams by Eels. Mood: Anxious

A dusty, desolate road stretches out its long spine before me, daring me to trace it's vertebrae. I put one foot in front of the other, walking the line that forbids me pass. My steps are slow and unsteady. The sun is unkind today. It sears my skin with stripes that draw blood. I walk as if I am bound, and my hands are not free to catch me when I fall. 

I gather my courage and look ahead at the road swallowed by the horizon to the point I've been trying to reach in vain. I don't know when I'll reach it, but I look on anyway. I implore the sun and make him mine. I even ask for a little water from his stores, the ones he keeps up there. 

Instead, he sends me a well, promising and cool. He bids me drink deeply, store some up for the journey before me. He loosens my feet and tacks wings to my shoulder-blades. They are small but sufficient. Their names are "doubt not" and "fear not".  

End time: 6:14 pm. Song: Climbing to the Moon [Jon Brion Remix] by Eels Mood: Still anxious.