Just in Case You Were Wondering . . .

. . . what I wrote by way of introduction to that class, here it is:

I’m a native Utahn—born, raised, and usually not terribly ashamed of it, either. I’m a first year American Studies student, and I’m leaning toward a Rhetoric and Composition emphasis. Working at the Weber State University writing center sort of addicted me to the idea of teaching writing in one way or another for the rest of my life. I graduated WSU in 2006 with a B.A. in Creative Writing/Poetry, and I’d discovered by the end of my tenure there that I loved it when I could find ways of making theory and creative writing meet. Then when I started registering for courses this fall, ta da! This one appeared. It seemed more a less a given, considering what my interests are.

Right now, I’m rather adamant about having a loosely defined life plan. Ultimately, I’d like to teach college—but I’d also like to find other things I like to do in the meantime. Unfortunately, this process has worked, so far, by means of process of elimination. For example, I do not like to try to bum it as an unemployed person, I do not like working in an office environment, and though HR involves people . . . well, the fact that it’s called Human Resources should have said something to me in the first place. (Seriously, who likes being called into the boss’ office and being told, “You are a good skill set”?)

I love all foods ethnic—especially Indian, Greek and Thai. My roommate just introduced me to Aristo’s on 1300 East, and I’m not sure she knows exactly what she’s done. My siblings and I all play the piano (it was pretty much mandate in our household going up), so I tend to like music that has some cool piano/keyboard instrumentals going on: Keane, Ben Folds, etc. I also just discovered Even Elroy, and they are my now favorite band ever. (And not just because one of their songs is called “Wanna Meet Katie.”)

My family likes to joke I’ve never laid my hands on a book I didn’t like. But I’m a particular fan of Gregory Maguire, all of the Russian greats, Willa Cather, and a number of others. I have a serious addiction to books about books, and I love The Shadow of the Wind. I’d also be remiss if I neglected to mention Big Fish.

I’d like to find myself more open to different genres after taking this class. I fear I’m a rather homogenized reader who stays squarely in her comfort zone, purely because I think I’m going to read a new sort of work in the wrong way. (Which, I know, is pretty silly. Especially since one of the reasons I decided to study English is because it lacks the whole right answer/wrong answer dichotomy present in so many other disciplines.)

Books and Me

A good friend from college once told me the following: "If books were fashion, dear, you would be super chic." I seem to cotton on to bestsellers and excellent literature before it hits the mainstream: the most notable example being Harry Potter--I read the first book roughly six months after it had been released in the United States, read the third almost immediately upon its release. The public didn't cotton on to these novels, not really, until the time for the fourth approached.

And by then they were huge. I credit the Harry Potter series for many connections I've seen forged over the past several years, for an increase in the number of people I see reading--and a corresponding increase in the willingness of people to talk about what they're reading. It's made my life a bit easier, because, you see, books are my language.

But as of 5:40 this evening, they are a language I wish I had taught myself a little bit different. 5:40 was when I finished the 7th and final installment of the Harry Potter series. And I had a twinge of sadness as I closed the book and set it down: what, if anything, will fill the void left in me now that I'm done? I wish I knew how to get absorbed in a book in a slow way--how to savor it and draw out the experience--but I don't. When it comes to books, once I'm in, I'm all in. No turning back.

The anticipation builds up to such a point it almost (almost, mind you, but not quite) becomes anticlimactic. And, for me, the anticipation means channeling awesome amounts of energy into other things. Nothing else I've found gives me that type of energy. Nothing. Nowhere.

And this is the other thing about reading Harry Potter: I can't write anything for a week or two afterward without crumpling it up, throwing it away, and wondering, "What's the use? It's not like I'll end up writing the next 'book blockbuster' like Harry Potter . . ."