(no subject)
This evening I watched fantastic documentary entitled Indoctrinate U. Anyone who is in college, going to be in college soon, or interested in academia should watch this film. More information can be found at http://indoctrinate-u.com (obviously). After watching it, I am glad to be where I am, at the College of Charleston. CofC may have a predominately liberal faculty, but I think I can say that, for the most part, the faculty I've encountered have been open-minded to views contrary to their own. (I've even had several commend me for taking so much time from school to remain faithful to what I believe is right, as well as others who have encouraged me to hold on to my religious beliefs in the face of any the criticism college atmospheres tend to generate (not that they were ever in jeopardy, but I guess they were just concerned)) Anyways, CofC has been a great college, academically and socially (we even have a men's club to complement the feminist women's club).
I've recently taken up jogging around Charleston. It has been wonderful. I'm usually out just as the sun is setting, jogging along the boardwalk; it's beautiful and invigorating. That reminds me, I will probably go on a photo hunt this Sunday and will subsequently post digital captures. I'm stoked.
I'm also excited because I am nearly finished with short-story I have been working on; a story that I think I will be happy with, for once! It will be posted to my DeviantArt as soon as it's finished/revised/edited/etc.
Finally, today I was sitting at my desk, attentively listening to my British Romanticism professor lecture about Lord Byron, the Byronic Hero, and Don Juan as the faint sound of yells and drums became audible. The voices and accompanying drums slowly raised in volume as the unknown slouched closer and closer to our classroom window. "Can anybody explain what a Picaresque Novel is?" My professor asked. The class was silent, until there was a sudden eruption of "No More War"s and other indistinct cries (presumable indictments of our current military operations and leadership). The voices sounded through the room like a cacophony to a steady, military drum beat. My professor paused, the room remained silent, and all I could think of was how inconsequential it was. All of that energy wasted, though in the name of heart-felt "justice," that could have been used for something actually productive. After the interruption, my professor explain that a picaresque novel was a tradition, beginning with Don Quixote, of satires centered around a character(s) with illusions of grandeur, blind to the misguidedness of their pursuits. After doing my own research into picaresque novels, I'm not sure how accurate that definition is, but I nonetheless got a kick out of it all.
I've recently taken up jogging around Charleston. It has been wonderful. I'm usually out just as the sun is setting, jogging along the boardwalk; it's beautiful and invigorating. That reminds me, I will probably go on a photo hunt this Sunday and will subsequently post digital captures. I'm stoked.
I'm also excited because I am nearly finished with short-story I have been working on; a story that I think I will be happy with, for once! It will be posted to my DeviantArt as soon as it's finished/revised/edited/etc.
Finally, today I was sitting at my desk, attentively listening to my British Romanticism professor lecture about Lord Byron, the Byronic Hero, and Don Juan as the faint sound of yells and drums became audible. The voices and accompanying drums slowly raised in volume as the unknown slouched closer and closer to our classroom window. "Can anybody explain what a Picaresque Novel is?" My professor asked. The class was silent, until there was a sudden eruption of "No More War"s and other indistinct cries (presumable indictments of our current military operations and leadership). The voices sounded through the room like a cacophony to a steady, military drum beat. My professor paused, the room remained silent, and all I could think of was how inconsequential it was. All of that energy wasted, though in the name of heart-felt "justice," that could have been used for something actually productive. After the interruption, my professor explain that a picaresque novel was a tradition, beginning with Don Quixote, of satires centered around a character(s) with illusions of grandeur, blind to the misguidedness of their pursuits. After doing my own research into picaresque novels, I'm not sure how accurate that definition is, but I nonetheless got a kick out of it all.