Reconsidering English

Today was a rough day, and it has not yet ended.  It seems simply to be the continuation of the day before; I have not had a proper sleep, but thankfully, the day has been kinder to me than I have anticipated about it.  I did not bonk and fall asleep in the computer science as I did on Tuesday, and while I did become fidgety during work—oh god, I can’t believe she wanted to pay for the five sandwiches separately in the middle of a lunch rush—I have yet to really fall asleep and take a nap.  I am still quite tired, but not enough to keep my head swerving and my mind hazy.  I am okay.

I did skip the CIS class though.  I feel bad about it.

And something happened right after the English class that I was seriously considering to drop.  Right after class ended, I went around to check out the library that a reading was going to be in; ZZ Packer is coming to my college, and my English instructor is supposedly having a dinner with her… I wonder if that was why he wanted the students to come to the reading as well?  Of course, we also have read her book as an assignment, but that, too, could have been the effect of her reading later tonight.

But I digress.  Carrying on…

The library was surprisingly close; it was at the same floor as the classroom that I was in, which the English department also calls home.  It was at the opposite end of the same corridor as where my classroom (which also happens to be the seminar room… why do I get the feeling that the department is severely underfunded and underrepresented?), revealing the rows of books through its open door.  Closer inspection of the room revealed the sign of the library, indicating that this indeed is the place that I should be later in the evening.  I peered through the door with a peek, my feet outside the library (which is frankly more like a room) but my head inside.

Guess who I saw?  My former instructor.

He taught my creative writing class about a year ago, when I was going through the similar motion of trying out different classes for choosing my major.  Of course, it led me to nowhere, but I at least passed the class with flying colors, grade-wise anyway.  Have I done that good of a work?  I think to this day, wondering if it was through merit or through pity that I received an A in the class.  Such thought eventually led to the death of my confidence in skills of the creative writing, which is a part of what led me here, career in college-wise.

I thought, for the longest time, he hated me.

I was kind of a dick in that class.  Discussion classes that do not seek actual knowledge but speculations, such as English classes that do not teach rules, turn me into thus, or so I have realized.  I am sure I looked down on majority of the people in the class.  Here is what I have explained to my career advisor concerning the class:  “it fills me up with the feeling both of alienation and superiority.”  I am not sure where the latter comes from, actually.  I am quite terrible at thinking about the characters.  While I can easily see what people are talking about when they point out the characters’ thoughts and motivations, it is not so easy until it is pointed out, and I am hardly the one that notices things first.  Nonetheless, during that creative writing class, I basically tore the short stories by the fellow students apart like a paper machete wielded by a bloodthirsty librarian.  Some did survive, but that was more through skills in the grammatical department than the story one.  Funny thing is, though, that I even tore my own story apart, presumably irreparable.  I have yet to touch the story again, even after nearly a year of leaving it be.

But it was all right.

We talked for a bit, both of us trying to fill in the bouts of awkward silences.  I think it worked, but I cannot be sure.  I get the feeling that while I did not leave a lasting impression, he did recognize my face, and that was good enough.  After a bit of chit-chat, I thought over the decision to drop the class right after this class.

I am going to wait.

I will wait it out and toil through the class again.  I may not like it, but I would like to know if there is more of what this class has to offer than what I have experienced so far in it, which is rather lackluster.  I have until the end of February, and I will decide if I want to withdraw by then.  Yes, it means I have not changed my mind, but no, I have not shoved the very idea of sticking with English and creative writing in general out of the door, but only just.  The idea still hangs by the thread.

Hopefully I will make a right decision soon.

(I may add a few pictures later.)

Now, pictures from reading:

The reading was pretty fun.  She actually sung some Brownie songs!