Today, in one of my lit. classes, I read Earnest Hemmingway's "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place", "The Lamp at Noon" by Sinclair Ross and "Why I live at the P.O." by Eudora Welty. Only Hemmingway was required. It's always severely tempting to have a literature anthology full of classics at your fingertips and be expected to pay attention to the lectures. At this point in the semester, much of the material from one class seems to bleed over to another and focusing is becoming much more complicated. Prime example: I'm writing a paper which will hopefully explore both the concepts and meanings of "nothingness" in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, and how comedy is a fitting medium to discuss these deeper themes by introducing literary critics from my theory course ; We spent this morning's representative literary works class discussing "nothingness" in Hemmingway's work (nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada). Si, "otro loco mas".
Currently posted on my desk is this list:
1. Grades are an illusion.
2. Your passion and insight are reality.
3.Your work is worth more than mere congruence to an answer key.
4.Persistence in the face of a skeptical authority figure is a powerful ability.
5.Fitting in is a short-term strategy, standing out pays off in the long run.
6.If you care enough about the work to be criticized, you've learned enough for today.
It's been rather helpful to remember whenever I start freaking out about the looming mountain of coursework to complete ere the semester ends. Not to mention the old Richard Bach quote that's been on my desk for years now, "Here is your test to find whether your mission on earth is finished: if you're alive, it isn't". It seems there are yet things to accomplish. Now, to get back to writing for school rather than leisure...
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