My friends, a day which will live in infamy has just been lived. A tragedy of missed opportunities for me - a day which I will surely regret not having seized upon.
Or perhaps I could be telling you that I made a folly of follies, a terrible blunder, a mistake so massive and so impulsive that it would be a wonder that I could retain the necessary brain functions to type out this message.
But lets start from the beginning.
In my first year English class, the teacher assigns us to give projects comparing a book to some other form. Just to make sure we weren't masturbating the entire class, she makes us answer a question that the groups assign. Then, we discuss.
Then we hand them in to the teacher. This is where the story comes in. Every time, just a check. Just a check.
I asked myself a question - does she actually read this? Or does she just skim it, then chuck it? I decided to act upon it.
I'll spare you the full written documents until the end of the post. I answered the questions, but I inserted a statement in the middle of the page. One was Marxist, another advocated Nazism, and another finally asked her if she read them. I hoped to get a response on the last one.
Now, keep in mind, she's the archetypical modern feminist - overeducated, skinny, fashionable, possibly hatred towards men. Distinctly feminist.
Now, evidently, I learned she did read them, in possibly the most uncomfortable situation imaginable.
She called me out. "You're William, right?"
I was William; she was right.
Then she called me, said I wasn't being serious, gave me a zero on the final response where I asked her directly.and that if I ever did that again, I would get no marks on my major presentation.
One thought burned.
"And who says feminists don't have a sense of humour?"
But keep in mind, we did not have a neutral student/professor relationship. No, I did not seduce her, as entrancing a thought as seducing a feminist would be (I am ever so enlightened - hyuk hyuk hyuk). No, she was decent. I missed a lecture - she gave me the video. Then, due to alarm malfunctions, I was late for the midterm. Which she allowed me to write later in the day at another class. At this class I was supposed to return a DVD. I did not. I returned it the next class day. No stink was raised; a courtesy most professional teachers lack.
Humorless yet decent. Perhaps just like Jesus, who never laughed. Read Name of the Rose by Eco. Good book. Adios.
Here's my written responses, complete, and unabridged.
"I don't think so. The problem was that [Septimus] was expressing them too readily. He was becoming overwhelmed by these emotions, and he already had an outlet; his wife, whom he commanded to take down notes in his madness. He was overcome by these emotions, and when the authorities of Holmes and Bradshaw came to take him away, he chose death rather than suppression; his final, poetic act. He could express them readily enough, but he just lacked an audience. Workers of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but your chains. He readily desired an audience, so that someone would listen to him."
The second one had something about Hitler in it, but I crossed it out. Bad taste.
Finally, I decided to skip all this and go straight to the belly of the beast.
"I believe Mrs. Dalloway after the book could have written this. Her denouement is her acceptance of her age and position and that she can't go home (as Thomas something-or-other said.) This would be recollecting upon the events of the past and the blissfulness she has gained. Althouhg I hope you realize that the previous were experiments to obtain an answer to the question that man has asked since we had the capacity for abastract thought or language (it all depends on which philosopher, really) - is anybody listening? Are you reading this? Is this all just an exercise in futility, a college professor giving cursory glances just to make sure a student got his arse out of bed and went to a lecture? In conclusion, Dalloway would be the most apt."
