Friday, June 6, 2014

Take a Look. It's In a Book.

Ok, who finished that post title by singing the Reading Rainbow theme song? If you didn't, get out. Just leave.

Anyway.

I remember the moment it happened; that moment my life absolutely and irreversibly changed. I was sitting in my dorm room, sophomore year. I shared a room with three other girls, and it was one of those rare moments when I was alone. I was failing chemistry. I was going to be on academic probation. I hated majoring in Biology and it obviously hated me (that bitch), but now I sat in my empty room, crying, because I'd just come to the realization that I would have to change my major. I wanted to so badly, but so much of me felt weak and lost in that decision. I was a quitter with that change of major, and even worse, I had no idea what I was going to study.
I had to call my parents earlier that day to tell them that their daughter was an absolute failure, and the required chemistry class was kicking my ass. And as I sat there in my room I remembered my dad saying, "Do something you love." I hated hearing it at the time because I thought it didn't help, but a 20 year old in a dirty dorm room doesn't have many options so, she listened to her dad and gave herself a pep talk.

Ok, Jennifer. Calm the hell down. No, stop chatting on AIM. Focus. What do you love? What are you good at? Stop crying! You have to be good at something. No, reading isn't a major. WAIT. Yeah it is.

The next day, I went to the English department with my change of major form. The assistant said oh so sarcastically, "You're the third bio major we've had today." Well I'm so glad I have started a movement. Anarchy is sure to follow.

I've loved reading since always and it can get to an unhealthy level at times.
For example:

  • Book quotes don't work like movie quotes. You can't use them in conversation. I learned this the hard way.
  • Comparing men to Mr. Rochester, Henry Tilney, and Mr. Darcy is just…crazy. I don't still do that. No way. Of course not.
  • Telling your friends that Mr. Rochester is your ideal man. That dark, mysterious, byronic hero totally does it for you. The stares you get with that answer.
  • When you throw a book across a room or you sobb uncontrollably and your mom comes running in, "what's wrong?!" only for you to reply "DOBBY DIED!" Crap. Spoiler alert.
  • I refused to accept a world where people don't dress in period clothing, give sonnets to lovers, or go a wizardry school. It's just not fair.


Seriously, I let books control my emotions far too much ,and you shouldn't even look at me, much less engage with me, when a character has died or my favorite book has ended. I'm just not in a good place for social interactions.

From words and punctuation come worlds and people, friends and lovers, and it's all mine to discover. Their dialogue bounces around in my head in the voices I've imagined for them. A complete escape into something that's deeply personal for both the author and the reader. My books are a comfort to me. I find peace and adventure and a much needed break from mundane existence within them. Sadly, they're all boxed up in America right now. But I want to pull out T.S. Eliot and read "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", and remember reading under trees at UNCG or Brontë and Austen when I'm feeling lonely and romantic. I remember the covers and dog-eared pages of Yeats, Harper Lee, Silas House, Rowling, Funke, my university copies of Shakespeare and Dickinson covered in notes.

So it's pretty much a damn dream come true to get a Master's in English Lit. Words are magic. Words have power. Words carry culture and show depth of society. I'm beyond excited to go to Stellenbosch, South Africa and study the words of Africans living in a turbulent, thriving, mega-diverse world. What's even more exciting is that I get to look at the writings of my own people (people from the southern US) and compare it to those of South Africans. But, I need to stop. That's for another post, because if you're anything like my family then you're absolutely wondering why in hell is an American going to South Africa to study English Literature. Oh friend. I have an answer for you.
But for now I'll just leave you with images (not my own) of my future home.







The blog will need a rename come February. Boerwors and cereal? 



3 comments:

  1. I love you! We watched Invictus as a leadership study in a class I'm taking and of course it made me think of you. So does any mention of Korea (North or South), New Zealand, pretty much any of that part of the world... except for Australia, which makes me think of Skinny... and of course Italy, Germany and Switzerland which make me think of Holly. My, what a traversed family we have!
    Anyway, I love you and I love that you love books. And I miss you!

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  2. This comment is a test- thanks!

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  3. Jennifer,
    My name is Alice. I work for the NCDVA. I absolutely love your blogs. I have talked with your mom and dad and told them how much I have enjoyed reading what you write. Thanks!

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