In the Beginning...

As an English major, I am pursing a degree in a department that perhaps has the distinction of boasting graduates who can produce more baloney in oral or written form, than graduates in any other field of study. Don't get me wrong, I love English. But I also understand how ridiculous people in my area can be. There is nothing worse than the agony of sitting in an upper-division English class, listening to some brown-nosing student go on about the apparent symbolism in the novel you are reading.

"The yellow tie," they will begin to explain, "represents the regrets that hang about his neck for his lost childhood." English students and professors are notorious for finding the "deeper meanings" in a text, that may or may not actually exsist. The freshman student will be sitting in one of these classes and start to question their adequacy, terrified, thoughts will come to their head like, "Am I just plain stupid? I never would have seen that in this book- maybe I don't belong at the University- the yellow tie stands for what? I wonder if that will be on the Final."

The student who is making the comment- if they buy into it, and like making up that kind of rubbish, will probably pursue the college teaching route (someday I may eat crow for that). If however, you thoughtfully reach the conclusion that this is balderdash, your writing career looks bright. Then college-age students across the country can read your book and overanalyze the symbolism, hidden motivations of characters, the obvious Oedipus complex in your leading man, and the political agenda you, the author, were trying to push.

Ah yes, it's a great major- and if anyone ever says it isn't, at least you can effectively use clever language and five-dollar words to develop a clear arguement with a strong thesis supported by at least three main points!