Thursday, January 21, 2010

sed peccasse iuuat

I discovered something about myself today. Which is actually quite a profound thing if you think about it. I got together with one of my old very dear friends, whom I only see a couple times a year if I'm lucky, due to time and geographical constraints. I met her in my very first year of university in my very first class, English 101. We started out with the same goal of med school, with me going the traditional BSc route, and her going the BA in Native Studies route. As for me, I dropped that fuzzy dream of being an ER surgeon within three months, while she kind of still has it as a distant future possibility if she gets bored. She is now on her way to graduating with an MA in Art History and Something, whilst I am on the way to no where.

As I was thinking of our unfortunately brief talk afterwards (she had come from teaching a class of 130 undergrads, and was late to a meeting about the state of something), I was trying to discern just what made me feel so jealous and inadequate compared to my friend. Having to live with a grad student, it's not necessarily about me missing being in school, although I do love learning. And it's not even about her getting a Masters degree, as I could've had one by now if I had really wanted to as well. So what's my problem?

The thing is that I feel I have nothing of value to talk about and no knowledge to share. My last Bachelor's degree was Honours in Classics, meaning that I had to do a thesis, which was essentially preparation for doing proper research in your Masters, and writing a full blown thesis in your Ph.D. And I immensely enjoyed writing that thesis and talking about it with my thesis advisor, second reader, and my man. I absolutely loved what I was writing about, and was thrilled to become one of the world's greatest experts on the author of [Tibullus] 3.13-18. And I got an 'A' for my 70-page tome. I enjoyed it so much, though, that I decided not to ruin it by continuing with grad studies.

But then why did I not even mention this blog to my friend when she asked me what was new with me, when it's something I write and that I enjoy? Essentially, what I've discovered is that I have this desire to be able to share what I know with someone when I talk to them. And I can't share or teach my friend anything about fashion. If you're a regular reader, you know that I really have nothing important to say about the photos and designers that I write about. And I know that I don't use fashion critic lingo, because I don't know it and don't really care to. The point of this blog is to share my knowledge of great designers with you, not to say something pithy that will be quoted in a fashion magazine. Fashion isn't something I know, per se, just something I'm interested in. I was thrilled when this friend of mine asked me to translate a large passage of Latin for her thesis research, because I could contribute something of value. But to say to her that "I saw a pretty dress" or "I like this designer" seems a tad...pointless, at least when talking to someone so academically focused. So what am I saying? I suppose that I need to provide my brain with the calisthenics that it needs. And then, although I'll never be the life of the party, perhaps I'll be a more interesting person to talk to, even if I'm just talking to myself.

Related Posts