The haps on the craps
When I started this blog oh so many moons ago, I decided very much that this should be a space for my opinions, and not a journal. I don't think it has become that.
In other words, though my experiences are meant to be something that springboards me into conversations about...oh, I don't know...how fucking rude people in Massachusetts are, it has always been my intention to make this blog about something. I fear the lack of deeper meaning in the world at large. I wanted this to be my contribution to a universe whose stories have morals. But alas....
You know, sometimes you're just overcome with the sheer IS-ness of it all. You stop being epistomological or phenomenological and you become ontological. You just plain ARE and the things that ARE also, well, they are independent of any motive behind their are-ness. It's crazy shit.
I would like to delve into some things that "are" for a moment. I am a Ph.D. student at UMass-Amherst. While getting my B.A. in English, I accumulated twice the number of units necessary in my major to graduate. I took so many classes that I couldn't now even remember half of them. Then I went on and got a master's degree in English, during which time, I again took twice the number of units needed for graduation. I could be two grad students at this point, I have that many units in English study.
Now, at the same time, I am what you might call, a reader. I read. A lot. And now, I'm reading even more because I'm physically reading AND going through a book every week or two on tape. Plus, I'm currently on a project to record poetry for myself on tape, so that when I have time, I try to record myself reading poetry for twenty or so minutes. I'm curently making it through my editions of the poetry of Lorca and Hardy. Lorca is the better poet, but Hardy occassionally has some remarkable things.
By the way, I am getting a Ph.D. in American Studies.
I wouldn't say that my reading is limited to literature either. Just today I read a couple of essays on the Sokal hoax by Steven Weinberg who is a physicist. I'm reading a history of the Rough Riders and the book I'm trying to get in next is Fear and Trembling. On Tape, I'm listening to a collection of stories by Ray Bradbury (which is short) to be followed soon after by T.C. Boyle's The Tortilla Curtain. For class, I just got done reading The Land of Little Rain, and a couple of long science/humanity essays by George Levine and someone else (they weren't very convincing, credible, or good).
My area of speciality, however, is American art with Nazi's in it. I say art because I deal with more than just literature in this respect. I also deal with criticism, history, film--you name it, if there's a jackbooting fascist in it, I can probably tell you what's going on, you know, culturally. So there you are.
Now, the other day I was discussing my comprehensive exams with my advisor. Here, in Massachusetts, my advisor represents the only figure in my entire department who could really give a shit whether I ever get a doctorate or not. Honestly. And that's really only because he gets paid to care. Otherwise, I don't think he'd care either way.
Nonetheless, his care for my academic career is solidly minimal, and I say this because of a few bits of advice he's given me that I'd like to share with you. First of all, one day, in quiet tones, he explained to me that there are a lot of small minded people out there so he wouldn't advise me to choose a concentration in African American literature because I'm white. The fact that this door isn't open to me isn't what disturbs me, what disturbs me is that I have absolutely no interest in specializing in AfAm literature or culture. I'm not against people who do, and it's not like I don't read African American literature, it's just that my primary focus is on Nazis. My advisor, after two years of knowing me, thought that I was trying to become an African Americanist.
But that, I think, takes second fiddle to his advice to me today. He explained to me that my academic pursuits shouldn't all be directed towards my dissertation and that I should attempt to round myself out so that I could teach other things besides novels about Nazis.
Translation: he thinks I've read three books. This is the state I find myself in. The one person whose job it is to direct my study, doesn't think I've read anything. So, he's giving me advice like: "you might want to look at some 19th century literature just in case. Emerson, for instance. Have you read Emerson?" Meanwhile there are professors at my school that I'm pretty sure I've read more than.
Holy shit.
Oh yeah, and I've taught Emerson too.
Just give me the Ph.D. and let me get out of here.
In other words, though my experiences are meant to be something that springboards me into conversations about...oh, I don't know...how fucking rude people in Massachusetts are, it has always been my intention to make this blog about something. I fear the lack of deeper meaning in the world at large. I wanted this to be my contribution to a universe whose stories have morals. But alas....
You know, sometimes you're just overcome with the sheer IS-ness of it all. You stop being epistomological or phenomenological and you become ontological. You just plain ARE and the things that ARE also, well, they are independent of any motive behind their are-ness. It's crazy shit.
I would like to delve into some things that "are" for a moment. I am a Ph.D. student at UMass-Amherst. While getting my B.A. in English, I accumulated twice the number of units necessary in my major to graduate. I took so many classes that I couldn't now even remember half of them. Then I went on and got a master's degree in English, during which time, I again took twice the number of units needed for graduation. I could be two grad students at this point, I have that many units in English study.
Now, at the same time, I am what you might call, a reader. I read. A lot. And now, I'm reading even more because I'm physically reading AND going through a book every week or two on tape. Plus, I'm currently on a project to record poetry for myself on tape, so that when I have time, I try to record myself reading poetry for twenty or so minutes. I'm curently making it through my editions of the poetry of Lorca and Hardy. Lorca is the better poet, but Hardy occassionally has some remarkable things.
By the way, I am getting a Ph.D. in American Studies.
I wouldn't say that my reading is limited to literature either. Just today I read a couple of essays on the Sokal hoax by Steven Weinberg who is a physicist. I'm reading a history of the Rough Riders and the book I'm trying to get in next is Fear and Trembling. On Tape, I'm listening to a collection of stories by Ray Bradbury (which is short) to be followed soon after by T.C. Boyle's The Tortilla Curtain. For class, I just got done reading The Land of Little Rain, and a couple of long science/humanity essays by George Levine and someone else (they weren't very convincing, credible, or good).
My area of speciality, however, is American art with Nazi's in it. I say art because I deal with more than just literature in this respect. I also deal with criticism, history, film--you name it, if there's a jackbooting fascist in it, I can probably tell you what's going on, you know, culturally. So there you are.
Now, the other day I was discussing my comprehensive exams with my advisor. Here, in Massachusetts, my advisor represents the only figure in my entire department who could really give a shit whether I ever get a doctorate or not. Honestly. And that's really only because he gets paid to care. Otherwise, I don't think he'd care either way.
Nonetheless, his care for my academic career is solidly minimal, and I say this because of a few bits of advice he's given me that I'd like to share with you. First of all, one day, in quiet tones, he explained to me that there are a lot of small minded people out there so he wouldn't advise me to choose a concentration in African American literature because I'm white. The fact that this door isn't open to me isn't what disturbs me, what disturbs me is that I have absolutely no interest in specializing in AfAm literature or culture. I'm not against people who do, and it's not like I don't read African American literature, it's just that my primary focus is on Nazis. My advisor, after two years of knowing me, thought that I was trying to become an African Americanist.
But that, I think, takes second fiddle to his advice to me today. He explained to me that my academic pursuits shouldn't all be directed towards my dissertation and that I should attempt to round myself out so that I could teach other things besides novels about Nazis.
Translation: he thinks I've read three books. This is the state I find myself in. The one person whose job it is to direct my study, doesn't think I've read anything. So, he's giving me advice like: "you might want to look at some 19th century literature just in case. Emerson, for instance. Have you read Emerson?" Meanwhile there are professors at my school that I'm pretty sure I've read more than.
Holy shit.
Oh yeah, and I've taught Emerson too.
Just give me the Ph.D. and let me get out of here.