After writing about sixty pages total about all that is holy about English thangs during a 10 day stretch in December, I'm all out of stuff. I'm creatively constipated, and it's uncomfortable.
I have absolutely nothing appropriate to say.
Godspeed.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Friday, November 20, 2009
Shedding Some [Twi]light on the Edward Cullen Craze
Let me be the first to say that there is no way in Bella Swan's version-of-hell-without-Edward Cullen that the Twilight saga would ever be considered a literary masterpiece. According to the vampire and Gothic experts in my English program, the Twilight vampires defeat the entire purpose(s) for the existence of these mythical creatures, and I myself have been able to put the books down and walk away for weeks or months at a time, and that's really not saying much, coming from a Rhetoric/Composition lover. All the Stephenie Meyer bashing aside, the point of the blog is this: give Twilight fans a frickin' break.
Exhibit A: This was a status from a male Facebook friend-"Don't worry girls, in a few weeks when you realize that you aren't really a part of anyone's "team", that some of you are bitchy-not a sweet girl named Bella, and that yet again you have bought-in to a book that targets the emotions of a 7th grade girl, all of the guys you'll really want to marry one day will be standing in reality, waiting on your return. We won't even tell you, 'We told you so..' "
This same gentleman had posted a picture of a "Naughty Nurse" Halloween Costume with the caption "I forgot how much I love Halloween. Mmm...ha" prior to his Twilight post. I am in no way knocking this guy because I understand his frustration. I have felt this same frustration when I've seen internet postings/overheard conversations about guys ogling women with the assets of Megan Fox and her progeny. None of my friends, as gorgeous as they are, will ever look like the Megan Fox types unless they spend everyday with a trainer and a personal chef, getting paid big bucks to do it, and as a last resort having the benefit of an airbrush or graphic artist manipulating their Facebook photos when mother nature hiccuped. The bottom line is this: we all have unrealistic expectations when it comes to what we look for in the opposite sex.
I think that for girls--especially young girls my sister's age--high expectations for the man you want to ultimately be with can be good. Sure, it would be absurd if a man like Edward were the end-all be-all for a woman my age, but what's wrong with presenting young tween and teenage girls a picture of how a man should love and respect a woman? Nobody I know is throwing a fit over the Biblical portrayal of love/relationships from Song of Solomon or even Christ's love for his church. I know that nobody will ever love me like Jesus, nor will I ever be able to sacrifice for anyone the way he sacrificed for me, but that doesn't stop me from having relationships or loving.
Girls love Edward Cullen because he's mature (Your boyfriend would be too if he were a century or two old), he doesn't push his boundaries when it comes to sex, he puts Bella's comfort and safety before all else, he has a close-knit family, his appearance is absolutely stunning, and he would rather die at the hands of the Volturi than to live without the woman he loves ("you're my own personal brand of heroin"--the cheesiest line of all time, but you get the point). What's not to love?!
Even Jacob Black isn't a bad guy to have in your corner. He steps in to love Bella when Edward is gone, he fights to protect her from impending danger, his dad and Bella's dad are old, close friends, and he also is stunning and strong. Again, what's not to love?!
I've found myself sighing a little and getting wide-eyed when I see Rob Pattinson or Taylor Lautner on screen, but when it comes down to it, I'd rather have my own flesh and blood Sean Day, and I'm sure other women would too (or their own Drews/Matts/Jakes/Jamies/Adams/Neals, because nobody better try to take my man, just saying). Sean can make me laugh like nobody can, he gives the best hugs, and nothing makes me happier than when he tells me he loves me (Sean, please don't kill me for destroying your street cred. You are a badass to the core.). We Edward/Jacob-lovers KNOW the difference between fantasy and reality, and all the complaints about girls who love Twilight, blah blah, beg the question "Do YOU?"
I personally don't care if you love the Twilight saga or you swore your allegiance to Harry Potter back in 2007 and refuse to get off your Nimbus 2000 and give vampires a chance. I just hoped to shed a little [Twi]light on the Edward Cullen Craze and why girls go gaga for a blood-thirsty monster. I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything.
After all, the Volturi are watching...
Exhibit A: This was a status from a male Facebook friend-"Don't worry girls, in a few weeks when you realize that you aren't really a part of anyone's "team", that some of you are bitchy-not a sweet girl named Bella, and that yet again you have bought-in to a book that targets the emotions of a 7th grade girl, all of the guys you'll really want to marry one day will be standing in reality, waiting on your return. We won't even tell you, 'We told you so..' "
This same gentleman had posted a picture of a "Naughty Nurse" Halloween Costume with the caption "I forgot how much I love Halloween. Mmm...ha" prior to his Twilight post. I am in no way knocking this guy because I understand his frustration. I have felt this same frustration when I've seen internet postings/overheard conversations about guys ogling women with the assets of Megan Fox and her progeny. None of my friends, as gorgeous as they are, will ever look like the Megan Fox types unless they spend everyday with a trainer and a personal chef, getting paid big bucks to do it, and as a last resort having the benefit of an airbrush or graphic artist manipulating their Facebook photos when mother nature hiccuped. The bottom line is this: we all have unrealistic expectations when it comes to what we look for in the opposite sex.
I think that for girls--especially young girls my sister's age--high expectations for the man you want to ultimately be with can be good. Sure, it would be absurd if a man like Edward were the end-all be-all for a woman my age, but what's wrong with presenting young tween and teenage girls a picture of how a man should love and respect a woman? Nobody I know is throwing a fit over the Biblical portrayal of love/relationships from Song of Solomon or even Christ's love for his church. I know that nobody will ever love me like Jesus, nor will I ever be able to sacrifice for anyone the way he sacrificed for me, but that doesn't stop me from having relationships or loving.
Girls love Edward Cullen because he's mature (Your boyfriend would be too if he were a century or two old), he doesn't push his boundaries when it comes to sex, he puts Bella's comfort and safety before all else, he has a close-knit family, his appearance is absolutely stunning, and he would rather die at the hands of the Volturi than to live without the woman he loves ("you're my own personal brand of heroin"--the cheesiest line of all time, but you get the point). What's not to love?!
Even Jacob Black isn't a bad guy to have in your corner. He steps in to love Bella when Edward is gone, he fights to protect her from impending danger, his dad and Bella's dad are old, close friends, and he also is stunning and strong. Again, what's not to love?!
I've found myself sighing a little and getting wide-eyed when I see Rob Pattinson or Taylor Lautner on screen, but when it comes down to it, I'd rather have my own flesh and blood Sean Day, and I'm sure other women would too (or their own Drews/Matts/Jakes/Jamies/Adams/Neals, because nobody better try to take my man, just saying). Sean can make me laugh like nobody can, he gives the best hugs, and nothing makes me happier than when he tells me he loves me (Sean, please don't kill me for destroying your street cred. You are a badass to the core.). We Edward/Jacob-lovers KNOW the difference between fantasy and reality, and all the complaints about girls who love Twilight, blah blah, beg the question "Do YOU?"
I personally don't care if you love the Twilight saga or you swore your allegiance to Harry Potter back in 2007 and refuse to get off your Nimbus 2000 and give vampires a chance. I just hoped to shed a little [Twi]light on the Edward Cullen Craze and why girls go gaga for a blood-thirsty monster. I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything.
After all, the Volturi are watching...
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Just Junk
I have nothing of substance to say, because to be honest, I haven't really done any decent thinking lately. Back in the Myspace days, I used to think that whenever I blogged that I needed to write about some epiphany I had or something big like that. But now I know that sometimes--most of the time--all that's going through my head is just crap. For example, these are some of the thoughts I had today:
In other news, I flew to Buffalo, NY over Fall Break to visit Tara, where we had the Essential Fall Experience. I hadn't flown in about six years, and this was the first time I had flown by myself, and I felt SO grownup. Granted, I texted my mom every time I got to my gate, boarded a plane, landed, got off the plane, etc., but still. This was a big step for 24 year old me. Buffalo is a place full of weird people. Tara always talks about how much she hates it there, but I thought she was just being the whiny brat that she is, but I was wrong. It really is THAT terrible. We went to a bar and a guy came up and asked me if I was okay because I looked like I was going to throw-up. Thank you very much, Casanova, but if I were going to vomit, I would have found your car and thrown up on it (If I have actually ever thrown up on or in your car, that was just a coincidence. It doesn't mean I don't like you. Stuff happens.). I also contracted the flu while in Buffalo. One of Tara's other friends contracted the flu a couple weeks later when she visited. Coincidence? I think not. Anyway, aside from the douchey people in Buffalo and almost dying from the flu, it was a blast. Tara, I just can't quit you, baby.
After that trip I took a week off to suffer from the flu, cried over missing my mom the week after that, said something dumb in Visual Rhetoric about a fish smoking a joint, then realized I was the only person laughing at my joke, then left the room because I was reading a funny website and almost wet myself laughing and didn't want the teacher to know I stopped paying attention. So yeah, it's been pretty uneventful.
I am excited for Thanksgiving and Christmas, only it reminds me of just how broke I am. I always tell my extended family that they don't have to buy me anything since I can't buy them anything, but they never listen. This in turn makes me feel like a character straight out of a Jack Black movie. I mean, my 21 year old cousin is engaged, my sister is thin and pretty and smart and a cheerleader, my other cousins are barely out of diapers, and then there's me, Amy looking like Jack Black in Orange County, sitting in her underwear with like a bag of Cheetos or something, who pretty much got kicked out of law school and never buys Christmas gifts, shows up for Birthdays, or returns phone calls. I also usually end up joking about one of my gay ex boyfriends too. Luckily, this year, I have my secret weapon for success, Sean Day. "Ooo, Amy is in a functional relationship with a heterosexual male who is a future attorney. Yes Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus!" This will be a huge improvement over the last holiday season, when I was at my Aunt Lori's house crying into the Turkey over Brandon, knowing I was about to royally screw up law school exams.
And the beat goes on.
- I have to pee.
- I want my peanut butter and jelly sandwich now.
- I want to go to bed (2:00 pm).
- That girl kissing that guy is just gross. Now go put on some shoes.
- I can't wait to go home and watch Medium reruns on Lifetime tonight.
- I love Sean.
- I want a kitty.
- I have to pee.
In other news, I flew to Buffalo, NY over Fall Break to visit Tara, where we had the Essential Fall Experience. I hadn't flown in about six years, and this was the first time I had flown by myself, and I felt SO grownup. Granted, I texted my mom every time I got to my gate, boarded a plane, landed, got off the plane, etc., but still. This was a big step for 24 year old me. Buffalo is a place full of weird people. Tara always talks about how much she hates it there, but I thought she was just being the whiny brat that she is, but I was wrong. It really is THAT terrible. We went to a bar and a guy came up and asked me if I was okay because I looked like I was going to throw-up. Thank you very much, Casanova, but if I were going to vomit, I would have found your car and thrown up on it (If I have actually ever thrown up on or in your car, that was just a coincidence. It doesn't mean I don't like you. Stuff happens.). I also contracted the flu while in Buffalo. One of Tara's other friends contracted the flu a couple weeks later when she visited. Coincidence? I think not. Anyway, aside from the douchey people in Buffalo and almost dying from the flu, it was a blast. Tara, I just can't quit you, baby.
After that trip I took a week off to suffer from the flu, cried over missing my mom the week after that, said something dumb in Visual Rhetoric about a fish smoking a joint, then realized I was the only person laughing at my joke, then left the room because I was reading a funny website and almost wet myself laughing and didn't want the teacher to know I stopped paying attention. So yeah, it's been pretty uneventful.
I am excited for Thanksgiving and Christmas, only it reminds me of just how broke I am. I always tell my extended family that they don't have to buy me anything since I can't buy them anything, but they never listen. This in turn makes me feel like a character straight out of a Jack Black movie. I mean, my 21 year old cousin is engaged, my sister is thin and pretty and smart and a cheerleader, my other cousins are barely out of diapers, and then there's me, Amy looking like Jack Black in Orange County, sitting in her underwear with like a bag of Cheetos or something, who pretty much got kicked out of law school and never buys Christmas gifts, shows up for Birthdays, or returns phone calls. I also usually end up joking about one of my gay ex boyfriends too. Luckily, this year, I have my secret weapon for success, Sean Day. "Ooo, Amy is in a functional relationship with a heterosexual male who is a future attorney. Yes Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus!" This will be a huge improvement over the last holiday season, when I was at my Aunt Lori's house crying into the Turkey over Brandon, knowing I was about to royally screw up law school exams.
And the beat goes on.
Monday, October 5, 2009
A Birthday Blog
It's my birthday. I seriously can't believe I am 24 whole years old right this very minute (ok, well, in like 10 hours and 40 more minutes, technically, but who's counting?). Sometimes I feel like I'm not old enough to even be buying my own groceries, and then I remember that when my mom turned 24, she'd been married a while and I was a year old. I mean, I guess this is the "mid-twenties," right? I'm supposed to be on my way to settling down, instead of feeling like I'm going through some kind of emotional/circumstantial puberty every day, right? MY BIOLOGICAL CLOCK IS TICKING! TICK-TOCK TICK-TOCK TICK...
I was pilfering through my nightstand and found a letter that I'd written to myself about six years ago. I was a junior in high school and my AP Spanish teacher had us write letters to ourselves in the future, with what our lives were like then, and where we hoped we would be in five years and then ten years, and she would keep them and mail them to us after five years. I had to do this once before, but this time, the teacher followed through (it could have something to do with the fact that Sra. Clark was one of the most badass teachers to ever walk the halls of Karns High School, right along with Mona Beverly and Marilyn McClain, so naturally she would be true to her word. Anyway...). Reading it was comical, to say the least. Note that some names have been changed/omitted to protect the completely oblivious, and pardon the mistakes in punctuation:
May 8, 2003
Dear Amy,
OK. Today I'm/You're sitting in Spanish, writing this letter to yourself. What are you going to accomplish in 5 years? In 10 years? Who do you hope to be? Where are you going to go? Good question. As of today, my 17 year old self lives in the world the size of a pencil eraser. I think about things like "was what I ate for breakfast healthy?" and "oh gosh, I need to lose weight" and "will I EVER have a boyfriend?" Lame, yes, I know. This year, my junior year, I am not so school crazy. I'm so burnt out on trying for all As that no one will care about in a couple of years. I really think I've lightened up. I actually have more fun now. I feel like I am getting some sort of a life. This is me now:
<3,
the 17-year old Amy
To reference Garth Brooks, sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers. I may have thought I knew what I wanted at the time, but I can't imagine how my life might have turned out if everything had gone according to planned. When I first read this letter, I was still in law school (oh lord! not another law school reference!) and quite pleased with myself; but, a mere year later, my path has changed once again, but I am still quite pleased with myself. I realize that all this "things happen for a reason" crap that I keep preaching in post after post is probably getting old, but it's just amazing to me that after all the so-called disappointments and heartbreaks I've experienced through the years, I can still come out immensely blessed and on my feet. In retrospect, all these life letdowns have been easy and the tears have been sweet. I say all this to remind myself that though I'm not where I thought I wanted to be right now, the past 24 years have been perfect. I have so many people I love, so many great memories, and so much to look forward to.
Happy Birthday, Amy, and from here on out, PLEASE disappoint me.
Love,
The 24 year-old Amy
I was pilfering through my nightstand and found a letter that I'd written to myself about six years ago. I was a junior in high school and my AP Spanish teacher had us write letters to ourselves in the future, with what our lives were like then, and where we hoped we would be in five years and then ten years, and she would keep them and mail them to us after five years. I had to do this once before, but this time, the teacher followed through (it could have something to do with the fact that Sra. Clark was one of the most badass teachers to ever walk the halls of Karns High School, right along with Mona Beverly and Marilyn McClain, so naturally she would be true to her word. Anyway...). Reading it was comical, to say the least. Note that some names have been changed/omitted to protect the completely oblivious, and pardon the mistakes in punctuation:
May 8, 2003
Dear Amy,
OK. Today I'm/You're sitting in Spanish, writing this letter to yourself. What are you going to accomplish in 5 years? In 10 years? Who do you hope to be? Where are you going to go? Good question. As of today, my 17 year old self lives in the world the size of a pencil eraser. I think about things like "was what I ate for breakfast healthy?" and "oh gosh, I need to lose weight" and "will I EVER have a boyfriend?" Lame, yes, I know. This year, my junior year, I am not so school crazy. I'm so burnt out on trying for all As that no one will care about in a couple of years. I really think I've lightened up. I actually have more fun now. I feel like I am getting some sort of a life. This is me now:
- Morgan Harris is my best friend
- My sister drives me nuts
- I like driving
- Church and the whole praise band thing is stressful
- I am always on a "diet" such a quirk
- I am always complaining about boys/lack there of, getting over ---- ------.
- Thinking ---- ----- is a total hoe.
- Go to college somewhere outside of TENN.
- Go back to England
- Study abroad in a Spanish-speaking country
- Visit Costa Rica or Puerto Rico
- Go back to New York
- Have a boyfriend--haha! That's not something to accomplish
- Decide what I'm going to do with my life
- Be awesome at Guitar
- Learn French and Italian
- Finish college/graduate school
- Be married/engaged or just, happily single!
- No kids yet
- Own a home
- Drive a new car
- Have a good job as either an interior designer or a writer or something Spanish-y
- Go to Italy
- Move somewhere exciting!
- Live in New York a year
- Go to the Bahamas or Hawaii
- Write a book
<3,
the 17-year old Amy
To reference Garth Brooks, sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers. I may have thought I knew what I wanted at the time, but I can't imagine how my life might have turned out if everything had gone according to planned. When I first read this letter, I was still in law school (oh lord! not another law school reference!) and quite pleased with myself; but, a mere year later, my path has changed once again, but I am still quite pleased with myself. I realize that all this "things happen for a reason" crap that I keep preaching in post after post is probably getting old, but it's just amazing to me that after all the so-called disappointments and heartbreaks I've experienced through the years, I can still come out immensely blessed and on my feet. In retrospect, all these life letdowns have been easy and the tears have been sweet. I say all this to remind myself that though I'm not where I thought I wanted to be right now, the past 24 years have been perfect. I have so many people I love, so many great memories, and so much to look forward to.
Happy Birthday, Amy, and from here on out, PLEASE disappoint me.
Love,
The 24 year-old Amy
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Addendum
I always have these little afterthoughts once I post a blog, so I can't just let it be.
I really hope I didn't come across as a complete and total jerk in that last post about tools-from-law school. Nobody's said anything to imply that was offensive or what not, but I felt bad that a post or two earlier I was talking about how wonderful the Lord is and then I turn right around and say something really mean that probably stems from my own bitterness over the whole law school situation. Yeah, I know I'm going to screw up again in the very near future, but I didn't want to give Christians a bad name in claiming to be one and then being so biting. My apologies.
Still, I am the happiest I've been in awhile, and for that I am grateful and I know I am blessed. And of course, wherever you go, there you are.
I really hope I didn't come across as a complete and total jerk in that last post about tools-from-law school. Nobody's said anything to imply that was offensive or what not, but I felt bad that a post or two earlier I was talking about how wonderful the Lord is and then I turn right around and say something really mean that probably stems from my own bitterness over the whole law school situation. Yeah, I know I'm going to screw up again in the very near future, but I didn't want to give Christians a bad name in claiming to be one and then being so biting. My apologies.
Still, I am the happiest I've been in awhile, and for that I am grateful and I know I am blessed. And of course, wherever you go, there you are.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Let's Play Catch-Up
So it appears that the last little blog blurb should have been called "Coming Later" rather than "Coming Soon". But good things come to those who wait, right?
I was really aiming to not talk about my feelings or mention the words "law" and "school" in the same sentence in this blog, but it looks like I will anyway. The good news is, I have good news. But first, let's poke fun at a non-law school graduate program, shall we?
Follow-up from previous post:
Guy in American Lit says he can't watch The Office because there are too many "socially awkward" situations. That's the point, brainiac. What's more socially awkward? The guy had more facial hair than Bigfoot himself, and this guy has access to a razor.
The long-lost Jonas Brother is in the same class.
I already found one girl, maybe two, I'd like to spill hot coffee on.
Now that we've had the chance to reminisce and reflect, I have to present you with the most wonderful grad school discovery yet: Talky McOldLady.
I have to credit the humorous name of this character to Laura Beth, who also faithfully documents the absurdities of Talky in a word document on her Mac. I'm just the messenger.
We should have known ol' Talky was going to be our main source of comic relief the day she walked in wearing velvety paisley pants and tried to convince Dr. Link that the rise of the picaresque novel in America paralleled the rise of opera in England.
Link: Well...I don't know about that. I don't know much about opera.
Talky: Me either.
Dr. Link had us buy a specific edition of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, as it was the complete authoritative text. He polled the class one morning.
Link: How much did the campus bookstore charge for this version of Huck Finn? THIS version. Not the Penguin Classic, not any other version. THIS SPECIFIC VERSION.
Class: Used, about $13.95. New, more like $17.95. Wasn't that bad.
Talky: I found the hardcover for $7.95 at Book Star.
Link: Seriously? Hard cover, for THIS SPECIFIC VERSION?
Talky: Oh, no, not that one. I didn't know what we were talking about.
That same day Talky tried to finish Link's sentence.
Link: The three characters of Rebecca Harding Davis' Life in the Iron Mills represent the head, the heart, and...???
Talky: The Feet!
Link: The pocket.
Then there was the lecture over the Civil War.
Link: ...and then there was the Battle of Chancellorsville. And what novel are we reading for this class that deals with the Battle of Chancellorsville?
Talking: The Novel of Chancellorsville!
Link: The Red Badge of Courage.
Note: The Novel of Chancellorsville was not on the syllabus. Probably because there is no Novel of Chancellorsville.
And finally...
Link: What Southern novel is it where the man has sex with the sheep?
Talky: Absalom, Absalom!
Link: Anybody know?
Talky: Absalom, Absalom!
Link: ?
Talky: Absalom, Absalom!
Link: (finally acknowledging her) there actually aren't even farm animals in that novel. Anybody?
I can't even do the woman justice. You just have to be there. Anyway, the MA program is great. Of course, the first two weeks I hung my head in disgust at just how worthless English is and how I really screwed it up with law school and how I'd better brush up on my house-wife skills and birthing abilities. But then I started having loads of fun. IN CLASS. Like discussing different interpretations of Amiri Baraka's poetry. And learning how to teach writing. Watching entire movies about the Helvetica font while eating jerk chicken Nachos our teacher bought us for class. The environment is a complete 180 from that of law school. We sit in semi-circles or around tables with our professors and peers. One of my teachers thanked me for doing some research on a poem that I figured I was supposed to do anyway. We're always being asked our opinions and people actually thank you for sharing and encourage your line of thought. The professors have so much less ego too. I got caught by a train the second week of school and came to my American Lit class 15 minutes late. I opened the door and braced myself for an "evil eye" or royal ass-chewing/request to leave. Dr. Link said "Come on in!" and continued lecturing. I don't fear class anymore and I'm being encouraged to think and write original papers with an original thesis that complements my research interests, instead of regurgitate in 3 hours on a computer screen all I've learned in a semester. Much to my surprise, I'm really enjoying myself and I genuinely think this is where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to be doing. Life is good again.
Ok, go ahead and do your sneering, tools-from law school-who-read-my-blog (Note: going to law school doesn't make you a tool. I have a lot of great friends from the law school. I'm speaking specifically to the sneering tools here). "She's just saying that because she got academically excluded/is pissed she can't do moot court like I can/generally sucks at life." You can now go stuff it. I don't cry myself to sleep at night. I enjoy what I learn, and my so-called "friends" aren't trying to psych me out before an exam or lie to me about an assignment so they can get ahead. It's quite nice. I'll now let you get back to not-briefing-cases-because-it's-lame and counting all the Facebook friends you've acquired since you started a smaller school where people might actually remember your name since you won't shut up in class and they're pretty much forced to.
And I'll get back to time-out for acting really childish in that last paragraph. But soooooo?! Booyah.
I was really aiming to not talk about my feelings or mention the words "law" and "school" in the same sentence in this blog, but it looks like I will anyway. The good news is, I have good news. But first, let's poke fun at a non-law school graduate program, shall we?
Follow-up from previous post:
Guy in American Lit says he can't watch The Office because there are too many "socially awkward" situations. That's the point, brainiac. What's more socially awkward? The guy had more facial hair than Bigfoot himself, and this guy has access to a razor.
- This guy puts my classmates and I in socially awkward situations every day. I wish I could insert a dramatization of daily events here. Just use your imagination. Enter man. High-waisted pants. Shirt tucked in. No belt. Hair down to rear end. Beard. Resembles an unkempt, Anglo-Saxon Jesus. Stands beside desk. Flips hair over both shoulders. Right jab, left cross, head tilt. Sit. Class begins. Right jab, left cross, head tilt. My roommate suggested Tourettes syndrome as a possible explanation. You be the judge.
The long-lost Jonas Brother is in the same class.
- I have two classes with the Jo-Bro. He's an extremely nice, funny guy, but every time he walks into class, I hear the Jonas Brothers in my head (I would have said I can hear duhduh duh du-uh "I told you I made dinner plans/for you and me and no one else..." but you wouldn't catch it since I'm the only person over the age of 16 who owns their CD.).
I already found one girl, maybe two, I'd like to spill hot coffee on.
- Nice girl. I'm the one with the problem. And the hot coffee.
Now that we've had the chance to reminisce and reflect, I have to present you with the most wonderful grad school discovery yet: Talky McOldLady.
I have to credit the humorous name of this character to Laura Beth, who also faithfully documents the absurdities of Talky in a word document on her Mac. I'm just the messenger.
We should have known ol' Talky was going to be our main source of comic relief the day she walked in wearing velvety paisley pants and tried to convince Dr. Link that the rise of the picaresque novel in America paralleled the rise of opera in England.
Link: Well...I don't know about that. I don't know much about opera.
Talky: Me either.
Dr. Link had us buy a specific edition of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, as it was the complete authoritative text. He polled the class one morning.
Link: How much did the campus bookstore charge for this version of Huck Finn? THIS version. Not the Penguin Classic, not any other version. THIS SPECIFIC VERSION.
Class: Used, about $13.95. New, more like $17.95. Wasn't that bad.
Talky: I found the hardcover for $7.95 at Book Star.
Link: Seriously? Hard cover, for THIS SPECIFIC VERSION?
Talky: Oh, no, not that one. I didn't know what we were talking about.
That same day Talky tried to finish Link's sentence.
Link: The three characters of Rebecca Harding Davis' Life in the Iron Mills represent the head, the heart, and...???
Talky: The Feet!
Link: The pocket.
Then there was the lecture over the Civil War.
Link: ...and then there was the Battle of Chancellorsville. And what novel are we reading for this class that deals with the Battle of Chancellorsville?
Talking: The Novel of Chancellorsville!
Link: The Red Badge of Courage.
Note: The Novel of Chancellorsville was not on the syllabus. Probably because there is no Novel of Chancellorsville.
And finally...
Link: What Southern novel is it where the man has sex with the sheep?
Talky: Absalom, Absalom!
Link: Anybody know?
Talky: Absalom, Absalom!
Link: ?
Talky: Absalom, Absalom!
Link: (finally acknowledging her) there actually aren't even farm animals in that novel. Anybody?
I can't even do the woman justice. You just have to be there. Anyway, the MA program is great. Of course, the first two weeks I hung my head in disgust at just how worthless English is and how I really screwed it up with law school and how I'd better brush up on my house-wife skills and birthing abilities. But then I started having loads of fun. IN CLASS. Like discussing different interpretations of Amiri Baraka's poetry. And learning how to teach writing. Watching entire movies about the Helvetica font while eating jerk chicken Nachos our teacher bought us for class. The environment is a complete 180 from that of law school. We sit in semi-circles or around tables with our professors and peers. One of my teachers thanked me for doing some research on a poem that I figured I was supposed to do anyway. We're always being asked our opinions and people actually thank you for sharing and encourage your line of thought. The professors have so much less ego too. I got caught by a train the second week of school and came to my American Lit class 15 minutes late. I opened the door and braced myself for an "evil eye" or royal ass-chewing/request to leave. Dr. Link said "Come on in!" and continued lecturing. I don't fear class anymore and I'm being encouraged to think and write original papers with an original thesis that complements my research interests, instead of regurgitate in 3 hours on a computer screen all I've learned in a semester. Much to my surprise, I'm really enjoying myself and I genuinely think this is where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to be doing. Life is good again.
Ok, go ahead and do your sneering, tools-from law school-who-read-my-blog (Note: going to law school doesn't make you a tool. I have a lot of great friends from the law school. I'm speaking specifically to the sneering tools here). "She's just saying that because she got academically excluded/is pissed she can't do moot court like I can/generally sucks at life." You can now go stuff it. I don't cry myself to sleep at night. I enjoy what I learn, and my so-called "friends" aren't trying to psych me out before an exam or lie to me about an assignment so they can get ahead. It's quite nice. I'll now let you get back to not-briefing-cases-because-it's-lame and counting all the Facebook friends you've acquired since you started a smaller school where people might actually remember your name since you won't shut up in class and they're pretty much forced to.
And I'll get back to time-out for acting really childish in that last paragraph. But soooooo?! Booyah.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Coming Soon...
Day 1 of classes for the MA in English. Excellent blog fodder? Oh yes.
PS-If I allowed a travel agency from Singapore to advertise on my blog, would you think less of me?
- Guy in American Lit says he can't watch The Office because there are too many "socially awkward" situations. That's the point, brainiac. What's more socially awkward? The guy had more facial hair than Bigfoot himself, and this guy has access to a razor.
- The long-lost Jonas Brother is in the same class.
- I already found one girl, maybe two, I'd like to spill hot coffee on.
PS-If I allowed a travel agency from Singapore to advertise on my blog, would you think less of me?
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