Oh dear, I did write you a letter last night, and even one this morning, too. But here I am – winging it. I was hoping for a story to tell you. I did go to a little workshop on plain language writing today. Plain language is one of my favorite discoveries from learning how to write again – for the lawyers at school and for the health advocates at my old job. Plain language writing is the only word puzzle I’m any good at -finding ways to say things so people can actually understand you. I never had a class in it, though. I taught myself from websites.
All the high-performing attendees flexed their language muscles, and I nodded along. They really were very smart. I’m surrounded at work by people who believe in Knowing Things, and the class was no different. I have had to relinquish Knowing Things, since finding out conclusively that I Don’t. One thing I do know is it is much easier to let other people know things such as “what is a cognate?” and raise their hands and supply the answer and impress the teacher. My brain has lots to tell me, but I have found that – on balance – most of it is of questionable authority.
One of the kids where I take my car has gone back to school, and now we commiserate on how to finish homework while practically unconscious. I told him my trick. Some nights I used to set my timer for 5 minutes. Lying in bed with the lap top open next to me, I would close my eyes. When the timer went off, I opened them and for 5 minutes, I’d type some sort of answer to my assignment. The timer would ring again, and I shut my eyes for 5 succulent minutes. Back and forth I’d go – study/snooze/study/snooze – until I had something ready for the homework deadline.
In any case, darling, my sleepy self will not take no for an answer tonight. I’m not like you, dear. My ambition has never been any match for the enticement of rest, and the liberation of dreams. Nighty night, honey.