Maybe I am Just Stressed Over Finals
I've always been a staunch supporter of The English Class. When dull mobs of dull children whine that books are ruined by thinking too hard about them, I'm ready with my firm retort: "Yes, but you'd never fucking read these books anyway," followed by the occasional tough but fair choking of a bitch.
But once in a while I start to feel like I am being tricked by English, coerced into defending villains who misuse my precious words for their own nefarious purposes. Take, for instance, this gob of nonsense from a reading packet for my world literature class:
"Work in gendering in principle sees the socius as an affective coded site of exchange and surplus. The simple contentless presupposition of value as it allows gender-coded exchange has historically led to the appropriation of the sexual differential, subtracted from, but represented as, the theoretical fiction of sexual identity... gender determinacy is the coding of the value differential allowing for the possibility of the exchange of affective value, negotiating “sexuality”rather than sexual identity" (Guyatri Spivak, Marginality in the Teaching Machine).
Shut up shup up I hate you so hard. I think that basically what you are saying is that "gender is an excuse to treat women as merchandise." That is not a tough thing to say. You could just say that with words. And I could be subtly misinterpreting this passage because I tried to look up the word "socius" in the dictionary and it was not there. So there is a decent chance I do not fully understand this author because she uses words that are not real.
And I am using this section in an essay I am writing because it is the clearest and most comprehensible part of the piece and has the most obvious connections to my argument.
Why am I an English major? I think it is because I am a secret deadbeat who doesn't have the balls to be a scientist. Why am I doing this? What am I doing with my life? I should just take art classes completely and dedicate my life to the creation of useless things that at least don't infringe on anyone's active enjoyment of the world. I hate everything and I feel this way usually at least four times a week.
So I know my friends are probably stocking up on hairpins to help maintain my English-teacher bun in later years, but you may want to save yourselves the trouble. I still have time to do something with a point.
But once in a while I start to feel like I am being tricked by English, coerced into defending villains who misuse my precious words for their own nefarious purposes. Take, for instance, this gob of nonsense from a reading packet for my world literature class:
"Work in gendering in principle sees the socius as an affective coded site of exchange and surplus. The simple contentless presupposition of value as it allows gender-coded exchange has historically led to the appropriation of the sexual differential, subtracted from, but represented as, the theoretical fiction of sexual identity... gender determinacy is the coding of the value differential allowing for the possibility of the exchange of affective value, negotiating “sexuality”rather than sexual identity" (Guyatri Spivak, Marginality in the Teaching Machine).
Shut up shup up I hate you so hard. I think that basically what you are saying is that "gender is an excuse to treat women as merchandise." That is not a tough thing to say. You could just say that with words. And I could be subtly misinterpreting this passage because I tried to look up the word "socius" in the dictionary and it was not there. So there is a decent chance I do not fully understand this author because she uses words that are not real.
And I am using this section in an essay I am writing because it is the clearest and most comprehensible part of the piece and has the most obvious connections to my argument.
Why am I an English major? I think it is because I am a secret deadbeat who doesn't have the balls to be a scientist. Why am I doing this? What am I doing with my life? I should just take art classes completely and dedicate my life to the creation of useless things that at least don't infringe on anyone's active enjoyment of the world. I hate everything and I feel this way usually at least four times a week.
So I know my friends are probably stocking up on hairpins to help maintain my English-teacher bun in later years, but you may want to save yourselves the trouble. I still have time to do something with a point.