Posted in College, Thoughts, Writings


My major is Interdisciplinary Studies. If you don’t know what that means, that’s okay; I’ve even had someone who works at my college ask me what it is. Basically, I make it up. My focuses have been Bible and Psychology. People often think I’m a Bible major, which is understandable, as I take a lot of Bible classes; I think if it was possible to fill a requirement with a Bible class, I did so.

But people also think I’m an English major. I guess I just seem like one, because I’ve taken as few English major classes as possible. I took Creative Writing, and this semester, I’m taking my second literature class. That’s it. And really, that’s been plenty.

This may seem odd, as I love both reading and writing. I’m even a pretty good writer. And if you can be good at reading, I think I qualify.

But I’m not overly fond of writing what other people tell me to write. Besides, I’m kind of embarrassingly bad at knowing the mechanics of writing. I can use correct grammar, and when I don’t, it’s usually for a purpose (or a typo), but I can tell you very few rules. Parts of speech are even worse. If I were on Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader? and this was a subject, I would be scared. No joke. I can just use these things because I’ve read and absorbed so much.

And literature classes… sometimes (or frequently) they’re just silly. Like today: “Some of the chapters in this book are quite short, and others aren’t. Do you think there’s a significance to that?”

Um. No?

I would really like to give some story I’ve written to a few literature teachers and see what insights they could pull out that I had no intention of including. I think it would be highly amusing.

Despite avoiding these sorts of classes, I guess I do a lot of English major things. I’ve read 130 books so far this calendar year – most of them just because I wanted to. And I’m getting to the point where I do a lot of writing because I want to; I’m currently in between projects, and I miss it. When I work up the courage to show stories to people, they even tell me they’re good. (I made someone cry recently. I kind of felt bad, but it was also a rather glorious moment.)

Maybe my problem is that I enjoy these things too much to appreciate them when they are put into classroom structure. I don’t know. It’s an interesting phenomenon.


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