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| Yesterday in my intermediate fiction writing class a girl brought in
the story "Eyes of a Blue Dog" to discuss in class on
Tuesday. Tom McNeely asked her why she chose it and she said,
"because its romantic and I thought it'd be appropriate for Valentine's
Day". Then, another student chimed in and said, "Valentine's
Day?....You mean Sit Alone in My Room and Masturbate Day?".
Silence.
No one moved a muscle.
Time slowed down. I could almost taste the seconds. The electromagnetic spectrum broke down before my eyes.
The class then moved on to workshopping the assigned story for the day.
No one spoke of the incident for the rest of the class.
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| Moby Dick has become everything. Recently, every unoccupied
second of the day has been devoted to reading Moby Dick, a story of one
man's maniacal pursuit of a mythological white whale. If you get
a chance to read Moby Dick, you should, but be forwarned, you probably
won't like. Unless you're into reading about whaling or about the
harsh, oppressive realities of pursuing truth and understanding in a
faceless unforgiving world, then you'd probably be better off reading a
Chicken Soup for the Soul book (Chicken Soup for the Hipster's Soul? -
I'd read that). I have a hundred pages of whaling left and, to be
honest, mate, I have better things to do, but alas, I will finish the
book because I couldn't live with myself if I didn't give Melville his
props, and plus I have to write a paper about it.
This might sound strange, even slightly insane, but today, while
reading Moby Dick, I had this strange epiphanous feeling. I
wasn't sure exaclty what it was, at first so I made sure it wasn't gas,
and then immediately got to the root of it. I realized it was a
feeling of renewed concern for my future. Throughout college, I
think I've simply ignored my future in the hopes that it would somehow
figure itself out by the time I arrived to it. Maybe the stars
are aligned tonight or I really do just have gas, but reading Moby Dick
snapped me out of my spell of complacency and got me thinking that I
should really start making plans for the future because I'm starting to
realize that if I want to be stinking rich and have the luxury of using
dollar bills as toilet paper then I better get on track. I'm
kidding about that last sentence. Don't worry. I haven't
become a crass materialist yet.
Oh, the tribulations that pain an English major's soul. We're
simply cursed with a deeper understanding of the human condition, its
frailties, its flaws, its tragedies.
Man! I wish I had an external hard drive. God damn!
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| Another winter break is coming to an end. It's been a pretty
enjoyable one. In hindsight it all seems to blend together into
this malaise of waking up at obscene hours in the afternoon,
watching repetitive television programs, sitting in front of my
computer half-naked, and scrounging around for bits
of food. If it weren't for the internet, I would've probably
accomplished something amazing by now, but alas, I can't help but be
attracted to the comforting glow of my computer screen. I'd
imagine the life I lead during winter vacation is very much like the
life playboy billionaires lead. Sure, they go out partying in the
evenings and have massive orgies on stacks of hundred dollar bills at
night, but during the day I'm pretty sure they just lie around watching
Celebrity Poker Showdown and eating popcorn in their boxers just like I
do.
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