Thursday has come through once again.
I had an epiphany in statistics this morning, which meant that I gasped and reeled back in my chair and ignored the stares of my peers. And then I looked to the heavens with the glorious realization that Tuesday’s midterm may leave me alive after all. Because, my friends, I understand confidence intervals. And p-values. And how to write conclusions without assuming you know more than you actually do.
It’s a miraculous thing, especially coming from the girl who frequently struggles with basic arithmetic.
Next was Gender and Sexuality in Literature of the American Tropics, which I’ve come to enjoy immensely. We finished reading “Down These Mean Streets” last night, and did a sort of wrap-up in class today. And I had a heck of a lot to say. I may have been a bit annoying, actually, but the ideas just kept coming: homosexuality as being portrayed as institutionalized at Comstock, Christianity as both creating opportunities and limiting them, the fact that ‘heart’ in the book is ironically externalized instead of internalized…
Here’s one of the things I love about being an English major:
There’s a moment, whenever you read a piece of literature, when suddenly all of the content falls away, and you’re left with historical context, form, literary theory, etc. And you begin to see the work not as a mere story, but as a conglomeration of elements put together just so to create many greater truths. It’s a Nancy Drew when she solves a mystery and rides off in her baby blue convertible sort of feeling.
And I can’t think anything better.