The Downside of (Alleged) Cultural Literacy

The purpose of being an English major, I have recently discovered, is to make me "culturally literate." The novels, short stories and poems that have been selected to assist in this process are ones that have been deemed the greatest. They will change the lives of those who read them and make them more empathetic to the human condition.

If anything, since being forced to endure these "literary greats," I have become less empathetic to the human condition. Most of the authors whose works I have been reading have killed themselves, created characters who have killed themselves, or are clearly quite tempted to kill themselves.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not opposed to making my boyfriend read me Sylvia Plath poems aloud while I fall asleep. The summer before my senior year of high school, I read Flowers for Algernon for fun. And I love me some inky-cloaked Hamlet every so often. But would it be such a crime to assign literature that isn't meant to torment and depress the reader in order to get a message across? Almost every story I've read in my Bible-like Norton Anthology for American Lit this semester involves some old dude who is depressed because he's on the brink of death and he's filled with regret, blah blah blah. It's not surprise that I would rather hang out with Becky Bloomwood than one of those schmucks.

I propose that in addition to the soul-killing literature that is shoved down our throats faster than we can swallow, we should be reading some Chuck Klosterman essays that provoke thinking about life in a way that is funny and relevant without being sad and pseudo-meaningful. Or we can read a novel that addresses tough questions but gives at least a hint of hope at the end, such as the ending to The Perks of Being a Wallflower:

"So, if this does end up being my last letter, please believe that things are good with me, and even when they’re not, they will be soon enough.
And I will believe the same about you."

Doesn't that sound a little less depressing than sitting through an hour and five minutes listening to people discuss the meaninglessness of life as it relates to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead?

It is. There can still be educational value in optimism, and that's coming from a self-proclaimed pessimist. So until the literature proves to be less suicide-inducing, I will spend my class time immersing myself in happier thoughts i.e. by scanning the classroom and deciding what I would do if I were Stacy London and my classmates were actually contestants on What Not To Wear.

Now that gives me hope.

The Curse of the English Major

I highly recommend college. Whether it's a tiny private university where a tour would take about 10 minutes (where I'm at now) or a large state school where a tour would require an excursion of an entire city (where I've been). I do not, however, recommend being an English major. Why? Well I am going to provide reasons, of course. I could never make such a bold claim without providing supporting details. (Yep, this is going to be a boring post.)

An English major spends a good portion of his or her time in college reading and rereading poems, novels and short stories often written by authors who ultimately killed themselves. It's not exactly the sunniest way to spend four years. Said English major is then required to analyze these depressing tales in long, flowery-but-not-too-flowery essays. Unfortunately, this habit of finding meaning in absolutely every word cannot be broken once outside of the classroom.

Ergo, the English major ventures into Fantasyland. No, not the fun kind where you meet witches (see image on left) and pretend to fly. The kind where everything everyone does means something. Every word, glance, action and inaction has a purpose. In the real world, however, (sane) people really don't put that much thought into everything they do. They don't pay close attention to word choice or metaphors. And it's obvious that body language was something Cosmo invented to sell magazines to insecure women. It's just difficult for someone who gets applauded by professors for pointing out "significant" passages to accept this fact.

That's another thing. We're encouraged every day to behave this way. Overanalysis is condoned with great enthusiasm. Even if certain words or character traits mean absolutely nothing, English professors practically wet themselves if you suggest that such things are actually totally crucial to the theme of the story. These well-meaning individuals are ultimately promoting a practice that can be detrimental to the English major's social and personal life.

I have a mini nervous breakdown every time someone says, "How's it going?" because I don't know how he or she (usually he) actually wants me to respond. It takes too long to say, "It's (whatever 'it' is) going well; how is it going with you?" In Fantasyland, I choose my words very carefully and squint my eyes just the right amount in order to convey a certain message. In the real world, however, no one really cares. People are not going to stay up all night analyzing every word spoken to them. That dude who greeted me in a casual manner is going to continue along his merry way no matter how I reply.

So next time an English major bumps into you (because she is probably too busy analyzing her last conversation to pay attention to where she's going), be moderately sympathetic and majorly straightforward because you never know what kind of ridiculous thoughts are swirling around in that head of hers at any given moment.

Well that's one reason to not major in English. So all of the above and the whole not being able to find a job after graduation thing. Two reasons to just say no.

How to Not End Up Bitter

Things haven't exactly improved in the dating world since I wrote this article. Apparently the world not only needs tips for a successful date, but also tips on how to find a decent person to waste one's life with. While I have no idea how to describe the perfect guy, I can at the very least present a list of the five types of guys to avoid. Not that they're based on personal experience or anything...of course I'm smart enough to avoid these douchers.

1) The Bro
He can often be spotted wearing clothes that don't fit, driving a lifted truck, blasting hardcore rap, sporting white-rimmed sunglasses and may as well be walking around waving a Confederate flag. He should be avoided because he drives too fast, is incredibly into himself (so you'd think he'd dress better) and is generally uninformed about political issues.

2) The Kerouac Wannabe
While not as uninformed about political issues, the Kerouac wannabe is disillusioned about everyone in government. Because this hipster is convinced that he really is Kerouac, he smokes a ton of weed, spends a lot of time partying (and makes sure everyone knows about it) and treats women like objects without minds of their own.

3) The Drama Queen
When you see a friend's relationship status changing every other day, she is probably dating one of these. The drama queen is indecisive, sensitive and starts arguments the second he gets bored. It is impossible to be in a stable relationship with this one, so it's best to set yourself free the first time he lashes out.

4) The English Major
While one may expect this sensitive, Shawn Hunter-after-his-dad-dies-type fella to shower her with romantic poems and flowers, this guy ultimately proves to be too socially awkward to even know how to date. He fails to express his intentions or feelings, and may end up making you walk back from the library by yourself.

5) The Lazy One
"What do you want to do?" "I don't know; what do you want to do?" This conversation is never a sign of exciting things to come. If a guy really wants to prove that he is a go-getter who's willing to go out of his way to leave a positive impression, he will look up the movie showtimes himeself and know just the place to get dinner. The lazy one may know what he want, but has no idea how to get it.

As George Clooney says in Up in the Air: "I stereotype. It's faster."