It may only be early November, but the holidays are approaching fast.  Just like your major term paper due this semester, holiday shopping is something best approached far in advance. And though I can’t help you research West African history, I can give you a few suggestions on what to get your loved ones this December.

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I don’t know if it’s because I transferred after my freshman year, or if time really does fly when you’re having fun, but it doesn’t seem like I should be going into my senior year. Everyone else seems surprised by this too; family and friends always give me that “Are you serious?” look when I tell them that I’m going to be graduating in May 2009.

Even some of my buddies at school go, “Oh, yeah…,” when I remind them that I won’t be around to see all of the nifty things that are opening on my campus for Fall 2009. (Seriously, I’m paying for the school to build a new cafeteria and a new theater, but I don’t get to see them? What the hell is that about?)

To say I’m nervous is kind of an obvious. I have a ton of things to do this upcoming school year. I have to take twenty credits this fall and somehow have sixteen more by the time I graduate so I can actually graduate. I need two more creative writing classes to fulfill my Creative Writing minor. I need to find somewhere to take a Spanish 102 class, as I took the first half in a summer course (which you might have read me groaning about), but never quite crossed the finish line. Read More »

I have no problem admitting that I’m kind of a nerd. So you can judge me all you want when I tell you that in college, I graduated with almost double the required number of 200-level English credits. I like to joke that I double-majored in English and English. Har har har.

I really enjoyed my major in college, which is why I couldn’t not sign up for classes like “Literature Goes to Hell,” a survey of literature prominently featuring the devil; or “Representations of Italians in American Cinema,” a class in which we watched movies like The Godfather, Reservoir Dogs, and Goodfellas, and then analyzed the crap out of them.

Almost every semester, there was some funky English class that I just had to take. So, when I was finally finished with the classes I actually needed, I figured that moving on to grad school would mean I could take even more unique classes, while expanding my resume.

Two years later, I earned a Masters degree, having taken four literature classes. FOUR. And only two of those classes I actually liked. What the hell did I do in grad school? I took “The Art of the Bibliography,” that’s what. And two critical theory classes, and two classes on teaching and pedagogy. If I had any intentions of being a teacher, that would be great. But when I went into grad school, I was under the impression that English is a versatile field– English majors can succeed in almost any field, from journalism to marketing to politics, with our skills–but I soon found myself feeling pigeon holed. Read More »

Last week, I wrote about choosing a school. This week, I get a little more specific: choosing a program. This might seem like a no-brainer; I mean, you’re probably not going to attempt an MFA in Puppetry if you just spent four years studying Atmospheric Science, right? Well… you never know. Afterall, Elle Woods went to Law School after majoring in Fashion Merchandising or something. Besides, I can tell you from experience that even if you think you know what you’re applying for, you better double-check.

Case in point: In college, I majored in English, and I was one class shy of earning a film minor. My final semester of college, no film classes that would fulfill my final requirement were offered, and even though I had taken film classes that weren’t part of the minor’s plan of study, they wouldn’t give me the “Film Studies Minor” title unless I took a class that wasn’t freakin’ available. I still get riled up about that, as you can see.

Anyway, I was seeking a Masters degree in English, though I really enjoyed Film Studies as well. Now, when you apply for a grad school program, you might have to choose a field within the realm of your chosen subject. For example, many English programs divide their grad students into Rhet/Comp or Lit majors; my friend is currently getting a PhD in Psychology, but her specialization is Early Childhood Development. So while you may earn a degree in a broad major like Politics, Journalism, or Philosophy, you may have to narrow it down to a specific topic when you apply to grad schools. Read More »

Today, I realized I had been living a lie. When I changed my major from journalism to English last semester (big mistake – but that’s another story for another blog), I thought “Hey, sweet! I can catch up on classes this summer by reading classic lit (poolside, albeit), expanding my already-extensive vocabulary with words like ‘subtilization’ and ‘castrato’ and still work on my tan!”

Apparently, I had fallen prey to my university’s (and um, my so-called ‘friends’) pernicious lies about the elusive evil that is summer school. Both my advisor and financial counselor had blissfully encouraged me to spend my hard-earned work/study cash on summer classes because, well, they were going to be so much easier than the normal, semester-long demons I would inevitably have to struggle with during the fall semester. It sounded like a pretty good idea, and when I consulted my girls who had all previously taken summer classes, they too said that summer school was way easy. And okay, I got a little excited when I realized that this meant I could wear flip-flops and jean skirts to class every day if I wanted– something northeast Ohio school years rarely permit.

So, I took the plunge. I signed up for summer school…with little to no idea about what was in store for me.

I was still floating on cloud nine after a post-midnight romp with an attractive boy when I waltzed into my first English Studies class - totally ready to tackle Faulkner and Woolf with ease. However, as soon as the syllabus reached my freshly-manicured fingernails….I practically went into cardiac arrest. Read More »

Yes, that is correct, I am destined to be one of those women. Feared by children and cats for companions (of course my personal choice would be books and alcohol instead of animals, not so high maintenance), I am only one more lovable feline pet away from becoming a Spinster.

I am 20 years old and I have never been in love, nor have I any desire to one day marry or bring children into this world. After much consideration of past relationships and basic encounters with men, I have decided that the only way to lead my life now is to become a Spinster.

Of course I’ll still maintain relations with men, but I’ll know that only the physical side of things will be involved.

By now, you probably think I’m some cold-hearted cynic, but I assure you I’m not. I am a genuinely nice person.

I’m also not gay. That is not denial. I’ve already been through a phase of questioning my sexuality.

This epiphany occurred to me one Saturday while walking to town for an unplanned window-shopping excursion. I had my usual inner monologue running in my head, which was mainly about the events of the previous night. It had been a usual Friday night and the beginning of the long awaited Easter weekend. The agenda for the night was to begin the weekend with a small pub crawl. The final stop of the night was at The Canterbury Tales, which is the last pub to close in town. We were enjoying ourselves, drinking and conversing the night away, when suddenly out of nowhere a group of in-line hockey boys surrounded us. Read More »

I have a weakness. A weakness for adorable English boys and giant babies with big heads. I also have a weakness for giant babies with big heads biting things. Like the fingers of adorable English boys.