After Columbus Day, with the prospect of Thanksgiving Break an impossible speck of light in the distance and the effortless life of summer a mere intangible memory, we find ourselves buried beneath an ever-increasing pile of "stuff" to do. Midterms, papers, meetings, presentations, events -- it's enough to send even the most organized, responsible student running to the health center with the hope of being diagnosed with the swine flu.
Every week is a marathon, the reward of a much-needed weekend coaching you towards the finish line. And then it starts all over again.
So last weekend, while I was enjoying one of my few weekends of freedom in Boston, visiting a friend for Fall Break, I couldn't have been happier to proclaim that -- for once -- I didn't have a mountain of homework to tackle upon my return to Loyola. After mentioning this to someone I had just met in Boston, however, I found myself the victim of an unwarranted assault. It was a condescending remark that took the form of "Well, let me guess. You're probably a liberal arts major or something." I'm a Writing major, so that kind of hit a sore spot.
Remarking how I didn't have a lot of work that weekend certainly wasn't enough information to warrant such an assumption, especially with that tone. Liberal arts -- as if I were an Untouchable.
This wasn't the first time I was accosted in such a tone of disapproval and superiority.
Most of the time people are pretty confused as to what exactly a major in Writing entails.
It takes awhile for me to explain that no, it's not Creative Writing. And it's not English or Journalism.
After describing the sorts of classes Loyola's Writing department has to offer, I'm usually received with a forced nod and a smile of fake encouragement along with the absolute worst -- "That's nice."
Well, doesn't that make me feel pleased with the countless hours of blood, toils, tears and sweat I pour into paper after paper, my hands glued to my laptop with the urgency of a codependent relationship.
In light of modern society's perpetually competitive job market, and our own self-interested, greedy dispositions, most college students feel the pressure to declare a major that will put them on the direct path to happiness -- a well-paying job.
As a result, we have a plethora of students who study International Business, Communications, Biology, Engineering, Accounting, Marketing, Economics, Political Science, etc. Everyone wants to end up successful, powerful, and wealthy. Everyone wants to get a good internship, build up a résumé, work his or her way up to the top, and become important. Everyone is fighting with each other over the same few beneficial jobs with the hope of one day conquering the civilized world as we know it.
This is the way the economy nurtures its own vicious survival of the fittest and it's an unavoidable, albeit discouraging, aspect of life.
However, why is it that liberal arts students aren't considered a threat in the heated scramble for employment? We are laughed off as a joke -- people who wasted their degrees on a subject that "doesn't really matter in the real world anyway."
People who fooled themselves into believing that they could do something of significance but eventually ended up settling, only to become a teacher, museum curator, librarian, or something like that.
Have we all forgotten the meaning of the word art? Liberal arts. Art is a foreign concept in a world constantly bombarded with business terms, economical crises, and too much technology for our own good.
Instant gratification is the key to success. Anything that requires thought, reflection, and revision is not worth the effort, or at least not according to the masses. But for the few with passion, the few who are willing to invest time in a subject that they truly care about, a different sort of satisfaction is to be obtained. For success in the professional sense, a strong worth ethic and an unwavering drive are necessary.
But in order to create masterpieces, individual works of art that will evoke both pride and shame for years to come -- these require unremitting, absolute, unadulterated passion. The kind of passion that only develops after years of failures, years of doubting yourself, years of being asked, "What are you going to do with that degree?" Whatever my heart desires, and more -- thanks for asking.
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