because it is time to think and to write

just WHAT does it take, to write bearing in mind the crushing weight of all foregoing scholarship? how is it that young scholars are not rendered schizophrenic in their attempt to think while simultaneously citing. i wish i could just write the damn thing and then cite each sentence, each idea. is that possible? i wish i hadn't read just enough to render my though processes completely paralysed, but not enough at all, not nearly enough to be an 'expert.' what is an 'expert' anyway. in a dim corner of my mind, i only really want to be edward said. this great ambition must be thwarted. it is impeding the maturation of my thinking. i am always already overwhelmed by the weight of history. everything is always already suspect. the plan was to achieve a level of sophistication in my comprehension of the world-at-large that i am at least rewarded by a feeling of at-home-ness within my little cocoon of insight. what point is there to critique without providing an alternative? what indeed. after this labour is finished i swear i will write a genre-bending work of fiction that will siphon off all the pretty sentences and uncited ideas dammed up inside me and serve as the most spectacular cathartic vehicle ever.