Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Lots of Big Words

I may have mentioned last semester, sometime between January and May, how much I loathed one of my classes. Survey of Contemporary Critical Theory. You might ask yourself... what does that even mean? Well, I can't even really tell you, because the class is basically all about how nothing means anything. If you break up a "text" into small of pieces called binaries, then they all just exist by themselves and there is no connection or story and thus... it means nothing.

Let me tell you what else means nothing: the grade I painfully achieved in said "survey."

I love the professor who taught the course. I love the people I took the course with. But the content was nothing short of infuriating and degree-boggling and made me question the very significance of my love for writing. Oh yes. It's true.

To make this all worth, I spent the whole semester wondering why I was in the class. I was fairly certain it counted neither as a Gen. Ed. course or a required English course for my major, and still I went to class at 8 o'clock every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning. My adviser had told me to sign up for the class. So I did. And yet, I can't remember her saying why. I can't remember if she even knew what the class was about.

So now I have a little box at the bottom of my degree audit, where all of the other useless classes go--the other ones that don't count toward anything, like Studio Art or the AP class I took in high school.

All that work. All that strife. All the late nights writing papers (and then having them lost by the professor or not printed correctly.) All the mornings of breakfast-less shaking and yawning. All the head-scratching and book rumplings in frustrating. Worth nothing.

They don't mean anything at all.

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