The last thing I should be doing right now is posting to my blog. I have a paper due Friday morning for a class that I care about, and that I've learned a lot in, and that I want to do thoughtful work for. My last paper. Of college.
Okay, so I'll most likely have reflective analyses to do for my education classes next year, and I'll definitely have to write a philosophy of education. But this is the last real paper. My last piece of literary critical analysis. How sad.
As I'm reading back over what I've written of this last paper thus far I'm struck by how much my writing has changed in my time at UIUC. For example, I've used the word I in this paper six times already. In this blog post, so far, I've ended three clauses (one sentence) with a preposition. And this is the sixth sentence fragment. Four years of undergraduate coursework in English, and this is what I have to show for it. (And by this, I mean a departure from giving a rat's fat ass about mechanical convention and an energized focus on finding interesting and worthwhile things to read and write about, like the texts I'm writing about for this last paper, and the ones I'm using to inform my response.)
Forgive me the obnoxious navel-gazing, I'm just having a moment with my English-major-hood that's ending this week.
(And sure, I'll probably go back to grad school. This probably isn't my last paper. But things happen, and I thought I'd say a few words just in case.) Lots of parentheses in this post.
2 comments:
You know, I've found myself doing the opposite, probably because of the difference in fields. Psychologists and other scientists care way too much about mechanical conventions -- your thoughts don't even get heard (or read) if you don't cite in APA-style. We've done a lot of lab work in research methods correcting comma splices and writing references and citations.
So I find myself concentrating heavily on the mechanics of papers I write, even as I remain focused on the content. It's sad; I used to be able to write expressively and creatively. And I still can, but I have to work harder at it. I have to deliberately flush out the mechanics. Put on soft music, close my eyes and imagine the images, emotions, and thoughts I'd like to convey. (I write fiction in my spare time, I mean.)
It is the difference in fields; when I was doing English language and literature, my teacher asked me how I wrote so well so she could share it with the class. I shrugged and said that I just felt it, and then I wrote it. I still get praise for my writing, but it's not nearly as satisfying -- it just means I was able to follow the book.
"I still get praise for my writing, but it's not nearly as satisfying -- it just means I was able to follow the book."
interesting insight. you're so cool.
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