I was (gently) told in grad school that my writing was too lofty. It was the kind that made for sublime prose as an art history major, but was far too pretentious for writing on classroom discourse. "Be concise and concrete," my professors said (i.e., cut out the flowery stuff). But I loved my long, meandering sentences and found them hard to abandon (still do). Stripped down to less made me feel exposed, bare. Yet in the rationing of words, I was forced to say what I meant, and say it directly.

I can be largely evasive when it comes to saying what I really mean. I'd rather you love me for my eloquence than to be frank about what truly is. But what gain do I have in pretentiousness, only to mask my imperfections? Quite concisely, I'm messed up and broken! There, I said it!

(Run and cover...)