fun known (delgadina) wrote,
fun known
delgadina

Offbeat.

LJ is the place for musing, internal sem-conflict and word vomit. I haven't felt the need to do that until today.

It's my third day as a Lit major (!!!) and I can't believe I'm saying this, or even thinking this, but --

I miss LM.

Whoever said being a Lit major was easy had no idea what Lit majors actually do. It's crazy stuff. As I read my Lit126.2 syllabus, I thought, "Wow, Accounting and Law seem so much more doable compared to this." With Accounting and Law, and let's generalize this into all SOM majors entirely, it's really easy to go through the motions of study as a mere technicality, working with objective, robotic-like proficiency. You don't need heart to balance some numbers, and while one can be passionate about the law, it's not a necessity.

The study of literature, however, is different. I believe there is a large degree of emotional investment involved. We're here in Lit because we "love to read" and this is what we "love to do", and that love for the written word is a fueling force behind our studies. But what about those times when your heart just isn't in it? Or a piece leaves you unmoved, uninspired? What then?

Being in SOM, I'll admit, has dulled my senses. I'm not as eloquent as I was before. Not saying that I was ever eloquent in the strictest definition of the word, but the right words are harder to come by now. My essays are succinct and straightforward, sometimes even terse. I've forgotten the art of description, of languorous wordplay and writing something because it's pretty.

I'm glad I shifted out when I did, who knows what would've happened to my aesthetic sensibilities had I stayed on longer. But, I can't help but miss it. I didn't like it, but I was good at it. I did my job and I felt like a competent little robot and that made me happy, or whatever it is that business students feel. The operative word here is not robot, but competent. I felt competent. And even in the aspects that I wasn't competent in, I used my major as my excuse. I don't like what I'm doing anyway, so I can fail at this or that and not feel guilty.

As a Lit major, I don't have excuses anymore. I'm supposed to like what I'm doing , I have no excuse. I have an excellent line-up of teachers, I have no excuse. I have no excuse!

It doesn't help my self-esteem that I have Th121 this semester. My teacher is cool, but I find myself with my mouth open, wanting to speak but not wanting to make mistakes. I'm so intimidated by the subject, I've practically pysched myself out. It's crazy. My Theo class is my security blanket right now. I'm with LM majors, my friends and familiars. I look forward to Theo classes with them, but why, why am I unable to speak up?!

It's only the third day. I haven't found my rhythm yet, but at this rate, I better find it soon.
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  • And in one of my more eloquent entries,

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