Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf?

I've been writing about Virginia Woolf for 4 hours now.

I think it's about time to take a break.

She's all about stream of conscious. I might as well be, too.

The "LOVE" enrichment project woodamajigger-- a wedding gift that currently sits on the entertainment center-- blends into the wall, even though the two colors are not the same. I probably would be a better decorator if I had money to do so, and more importantly, time. But I spend my time doing other things-- like schooling and showering and sleeping. But I wonder if the landlord knew that one day, we would move in, and the walls would be the perfect color to make our"LOVE" enrichment-project-wedding-gift-the-extent-of-my-decor-skills blend in with the wall. He probably didn't, and if I told him, he wouldn't care. Just like he didn't really care when we told him the garbage disposal was broken-- but I guess we didn't either because we've only called him once about it. The only other time we called him was when the pipes froze over the winter because we didn't have the heat high enough. But he responded promptly to that. In fact, he brought a heater that didn't work over for us. We just left the heat on high, and placed the broken heater above our shower in the large storage gap that allows us to keep our christmas decorations and a backstock of paper towels. I would put extra clothes up there-- you know the ones that are perpetually falling out of my closet because they don't have any room-- but it's been water damaged, and probably has some sort of fungus. I'm not that into the fungus look. I don't really know what look I'm into. I'm a married, almost-twenty-one-year-old female who will graduate with a bachelor's degree in one year precisely and sometimes I still can't figure myself out. But sometimes I think that will never go away. Sometimes I think your mind simply can't keep up with the rest of you...That your ears grow and your eyes grow and your heart grows, and old brain is just left in the dust, waiting to know what the rest of you knows. But maybe that’s not you. Maybe that’s just me.



I think Virginia might have thought so, though.

She gets me.

Poop.

I love the English language. I love it so much, in fact, that I have decided to major in it.

The vast majority of the time, I thoroughly enjoy my classes, and the things we discuss and learn in them.

However, every once and a while, I become greatly irked at the subject matter discussed. As most people who have taken any literature class know, the greater part of the discussion is subjective, and focused on the opinion of the current teacher, or the students involved in the class.

I'm fine with that. I realize that I am most likely going to have a differing opinion of that of my professors and peers throughout my undergrad, and further education if I choose to pursue it. The thing I cannot STAND, however, is when the professor spends the allotted amount of time discussing menial portions of the literature; and brushes over the greater, significant portions of it.

Before today's class, we were to read Gulliver's Travels. Those who have read Gulliver's Travels know that it is a novel-length satire on the economic, political, and social circumstances of the 18th century written by Jonathan Swift. Jonathan is a misanthrope, and his facetious satire clearly displays this.

The novel consists of, well, the travels of Gulliver to multiple(4) places of foreign distinction. He encounters strange creatures of existence, and this novel is therefore his account of these creatures, their lands, and his interaction with them.

I remember reading Gulliver's travels when I was in about 4th grade. I remember thoroughly enjoying the stories and accounts of Gulliver; so when the assignment was announced, I reacted with a positive attitude-- Even considering the great amount we were to read before the next class took place.

I read the chapters in a more mature mind frame than I had the first time, and instead of looking at them as mere stories, I interpreted them as the historical satire they were. The tales lost a lot of their appeal to me, but my enjoyment wasn't lost. I have studied enough literature to be able to appreciate good metaphors when I see them.

Anyway, I went to class today expecting to have an enlightening discussion on the things we read. After all, I HAD read the book with mature insight, hadn't I? My efforts, however, were futile. Instead, we had a 50 minute discussion on fecal matter, and why we are ashamed of it.
....
While you are letting that last sentence sink in...

I know, RIGHT??!?


There is a segment in the first book where Gulliver is among the people of Lilliputan. He is chained inside a cathedral. The cathedral hadn't been used in some time, so the people of Lilliputan decide it is an ideal place to keep Gulliver. Towards the middle of the chapter, Gulliver brings up the point that he has to relieve himself. He can't escape, so he decides to drop one in the middle of the cathedral. The paragraph discusses a lot of Gulliver's justifications in doing this, and explains that it was the only time he did this.

This entire scene happened in about a paragraph.

And yet, my professor was able to spend 50 minutes discussing the significance.

He claimed that we, as humans, are ashamed of mortality (symbolized by poop, apparently) and therefore are ashamed of POOPING. We discussed: Why does crap happen? How do you reconcile crap? If you have a body, do you have shame? And so on, and so forth.

I don't mean to hate on my professor.
I mean, the guy's a freaking genius.

All I'm saying is that with all that knowledge, and with all the MANY things we could have spent the allotted amount of time discussing, I feel as though his preference was slightly lacking.

Because really, kids, that was one crappy class.

some {semi} thoughts on education

I've been thinking a lot lately about how important education is to me. Attempting to state the fact simply would be an unforgivable understatement. However, I just sat through a 2 hour lecture on sexual renaissance poetry, and because of said lecture, words--specifically the poetic kind--are failing me. So, for the sake of my mind, let's just say that education is ranked near the top-- just a few, mere steps from God and Family.

But, why? Why is this concept of 'learning' so important to me? Why do I hunger for knowledge, or even desire it? Why I am spending $9000+ dollars (Tuition, books, room and board, etc.) a year to attend a university solely for the purpose of enhancing and developing my mind?

The first, most obvious reason one might consider before obtaining an education is money. Beginning in elementary school, and continuing throughout public schooling, children are taught that education is the key to success in life. They are pushed by parents and teachers to be at the top of their class, their grade, and their age because these 'adults' understand that if children are able to continue excelling through middle school, high school, and eventually graduate school-- the probability that they will find a good, steady, well paying job as an adult increases significantly.

However, as alluring as monetary funds sound, they are not the reason for my desire. I was raised in a culture where I was taught that as a woman, I should stay at home and raise my children rather than going to work. Therefore, the benefit of pay increase is hardly an incentive for me, as I will not have a great amount of time to utilize that asset.

Perhaps it is the appeal of establishing one's ethos that drive people to obtain an education. Being a woman, I know how frustrating it can be when you aren't taken seriously by males; especially in those circumstances where you are more learned in the topic at large. Being able to drop a line such as, "Oh yeah, I studied THAT while finishing my graduate degree at such-and-such school," automatically demands respect. The legitimacy of your opinions then increase significantly, and people actually LISTEN to you when you have something intelligent to say, rather than making some ignorant comment about your blonde hair or your pretty face.

(Bitter? Clearly.)

But, no. This, also, is not my reasoning. In thinking about my education, I have come to the conclusion that my desire for intelligence comes from my drive to connect with my fellow human beings. The differences between each individual human being and his/her fellow human beings are absolutely incalculable. Each person has different interests, different fortes, and different ideas.

I LOVE PEOPLE.

Because of my love for people, I have a desire to connect with them on a level that is not shallow or superficial. I feel that education will aide me in that desire. I feel that by expanding my knowledge and learning about a myriad of topics, I will better understand the many facets of the people around me and it will become easier for me to connect to them. I will be able to carry on insightful conversations about numerous topics with countless people.

That's what I have (unknowingly) believed, anyway.

As I was meandering around campus this afternoon, I came to this realization about myself. I was thinking about how legitimate my reason for wanting an education is, and consequently thought of this book. It greatly swayed my theory.

(It's a great read-- One that I highly recommend if you happen to run into some free time in the near future.)

At the start of the novel, Charlie Gordon is a 32-year-old man with an IQ of 68 who works as a janitor and deliveryman for Donner's Bakery. His uncle got him a job there 17 years previously so that Charlie would not have to be sent to an institution: the Warren State Home. Wanting to improve himself, Charlie attends reading and writing classes at the Beekman University Center for Retarded Adults taught by Alice Kinnian, a young, attractive woman. Professor Nemur and Doctor Strauss of Beekman University are looking for a human subject on whom they can test an experimental surgical technique for increasing intelligence; they have already successfully performed the surgery on a mouse, Algernon. Alice recommends Charlie for the procedure. His motivation to learn makes him the prime candidate and he undergoes the procedure.

The procedure is a success and, three months later, Charlie's IQ has reached 185. As his intelligence, education and understanding of the world around him increases, his relationships with people deteriorate; he is fired from his job at the bakery because his colleagues there are scared and resentful of his increased intelligence. Charlie also has a troubled romance with Alice. Even though they develop strong feelings for each other, he is prevented from having a physical relationship by the spectre of a younger Charlie whom the older Charlie feels is always watching. Unable to get close to Alice, Charlie starts a purely sexual relationship with Fay Lillman, a vivacious and promiscuous artist.

Charlie notices a flaw in the theories that led Nemur and Strauss to develop their intelligence-enhancing procedure. Shortly thereafter, Algernon starts behaving erratically, his intelligence fades and he dies. Charlie starts working on the project himself and discovers that his own increased intelligence is also only temporary. As Charlie regresses intellectually, Fay becomes scared by the change and stops talking to him. However, Charlie finally attains sufficient emotional maturity to have a brief but fulfilling relationship with Alice. Despite regressing back to his former self, he still remembers that he was once a genius and cannot bear everyone feeling sorry for him. Consequently, he decides to go to live at the Warren State Home where nobody knows about the operation. In a final letter to his friends he asks them to put flowers on Algernon's grave.

After contemplating the affect intelligence had on Charlie Gordon, I have come to the conclusion that my theory on being able to connect with people is only legitimate in the sense that conversation becomes easier when one has knowledge on a myriad of topics. In Charlie Gordon's case, intellect was the unfortunate driving force in his isolation from society. The actual connection between persons has nothing to do with the subject matter discussed. It simply has to do with one's attitude, and the way he/she decides to connect with the people around them.


Today, I decide to love.

And today, I am still in school.

Remind me why?

Too bad the economy is collapsing. Money just about had me convinced.

Package speakers.

I don't want to shower because it is thundering outside, and that feels like a good enough excuse. I don't want to write my paper because it's thundering outside, and that feels like a good enough excuse. It looks like it's seven o'clock in the morning still, because of the darkened clouds; therefore my pajamas belong nowhere but on my body. The week has been long, too long I might say. However, there were still some gems found in this week:

*Seeing the "Bee Money" "support your local artist" ad on that strange calender thing that was passed out to apartments on campus, calling the number on the paper, talking to Bee Money HIMSELF, looking him up on youtube, and realizing that he is dead serious. For those of you unaware of this local artist, you can check him out here.

*Switching my contacts finally after having my contact assault my left eye by digging into my pupil and committing other unmentionable acts that caused me to want to rip my eyeballs out for the past week and a half.

*Keeping a Red-Box DVD all week that I never ended up watching.

*Going to the DI and realizing that I am no longer grossed out by most second-hand things; consequently taking a trip to Plato's closet and realizing that that is my new favorite place to shop.

*Randomly going shopping, getting pedicures and ice cream from cold stone with Katie. (Even better, she bought my pedicure. That DOLL.)

*Using sparknotes to pass my British-Lit History class. It's the first time I have ever actually needed them, and as ashamed as I am to admit it, they helped me in a moment of need, and I am, indeed, grateful for them. I now take back (almost) every negative thing I have ever said about spark-notes.

*Spending Brooke-and-Kaylie time. This encompasses:
-Speed dating at Fallfest. We decided it would be a fun to do, a new experience, and we could check it off of our 'things to do before we die' list. The number of braces, glasses, the whiffs of rank breath, the 'dad' jeans, the zoobie, tie dyed t-shirts, and the awkward, impossible-to-carry-on conversations was so amusing that neither Brooke nor I regret the decision in the slightest.
-Going outside at Fallfest to the dance filled with UVU students-- We were dancing behind the speakers, so we could hardly hear the music, but there was a group of cute boys to our left, so we continued to dance there--OBVIOUSLY sending and invitation for an introduction, but, alas, we were rejected. We ended up seeing Leah and forgetting about them anyway.
-Being on the same page all night, especially when we walked through the fart on the dance floor, and both of us commented about it at the exact same time.
-Deciding to go home and have a movie/fatty night. Buying the frozen pizzas that contain probably a million calories, along with the most delicious ice cream on the planet: caramel praline. Trying to use my credit card to pay for the junk, pressing 'no' when the machine told me to please wait for the cashier, the cashier coming over and with and annoyed expression telling me I had to hit 'Pay for Items' on the main screen before I could use the credit card machine.
-The boy at the Redbox recognizing us because he was in the same Speed Dating room with us at Fall fest. He was so offended when we didn't recognize him, but still invited us to watch a movie at his apartment. We awkwardly declined.
-Watching the entirety of 27 dresses, even though our inevitable reaction of 'what the heck is this movie?' happened within the first five minutes. We suffered through it anyway, and entertained ourselves by predicting every approaching line, and making fun of every character EXCEPT supremely sexy James Marsden.

*Putting off writing my paper for another 45 mintues while I blogged about my week.

Love life.