...satire (or something like it)

Your typical English major is a pretentious creature. We are above your books, music, clothing, lifestyle choice, sexual preference, wallpaper, and favorite flavor of jellybean. You probably have your own stereotype in mind, and the truth is that it's probably true enough. “Art emulates life” and all that Oscar Wilde mess, you know? See what I did there? I just name-dropped a famous Victorian author. See what I did there? I just name dropped a famous literary time period. Holy shit. I am English major, hear me write. Fear my diction.

Our entitlement to being above everything comes in the fact that we read books, or rather, we still read books while the rest of the world sits in front of their television sets or whatever it is that normal people do. Yes, we read all the time. All the time. For us, there is a very limited set of activities to partake in outside of reading.

There's writing, of course.

If we aren't busy scribbling our rants against humanity or our free-verse poetry, we're most likely making and/or drinking our coffee that gives us the fuel that we need to take our cigarette breaks that give us our best ideas like writing that story about that time you were at social event X and all your friends were having a great time except for you because you're the only one who understands how the world is such an awful place and can't comprehend how anyone could smile or laugh when things are the way they are.

We have no aspirations. We don't really want to be in college at all, because it's full of phonies. We don't really need higher education anyhow, as we already read on our own and write better than everyone else we know. In reality we'd rather be having our Kerouacian adventure somewhere else. But we'll get our fancy schmancy degree so mom and dad don't totally disown us. We acknowledge that a degree in our field is completely useless and have no qualms with floating around doing “whatever” after graduation because the world doesn't understand us, degree or not.

Let me break the fourth wall for a moment. Why am I writing this?

Good question. I think it might very well be some sort of therapy. I find solace in my ability to laugh at myself and believe that somehow that makes me a slightly better person/ student. Day by day I find myself surrounded by people who take themselves far too seriously, sincerely believe that their personal tragedy trumps your personal tragedy, and are just plain annoying. I try to keep myself in check and reassure myself that I'm not going down the path which transforms me into a pretentious tool.

I was slightly inspired by this, as well.

(Plus, Stephen King suggests 4-6 hours of reading/writing a day. I've discovered a newfound respect for Mr. King, but that's a whole new post in the making, folks)