My reason for switching?
I didn't have to read or write as much as an English major (and yes, I’m perfectly aware of the irony in that statement). What people don’t realize is that History majors read a TON of books and write a TON of papers. In the one semester that I was a History major I was expected to write twice the amount of papers that I did my second year as an English major.
But it wasn't just laziness that brought me back—I had a few encouraging teachers that told me I should make the switch, and I missed reading novels for homework.
However, there was one thing that discouraged me from coming back to the English department.
Poetry.
I know this is going to sound really bad, but I hate poetry. At least, I hate the academic definition of poetry. Which by the way, what is that again?
One of the pitfalls of poetry is that just about anything COULD be poetry. It really just depends on how liberal your instructor is.
Poetry (as defined by Wikipedia): is a form of literary art in which language is used for its aesthetic and evocative qualities in addition to, or in lieu of, its apparent meaning. Which basically means “pretty words chosen because they sound good, look good on paper, and will make the writer appear smart.”
Bonus points if the reader has no FUCKING CLUE what the exact message the author is trying to convey.
If it were a sport, Poetry would be Cricket. It’s needlessly complicated and aristocratic at its worse—and childish and unintelligent at its best.
I always catch hell for this belief, and I can understand that…most people have poetry shoved so far down their throats that they have it coming out their rectum. But the truth of the matter is, an appreciation for poetry is like an appreciation for cod liver oil. And just like cod liver oil, we ingest poetry because we’re told its “good for us.”
Prose is a superior medium to enlighten and convey ideas. Prose can be “poetic” in nature, but rarely is it as obtuse and maddening as 99.999% of the poetry I was forced to read. I’ve read books and novels with footnotes…but some of the poetry that I was forced to read in college required footnotes that often HAD footnotes.
I’m not even joking.
And don’t get me started on the poems whose footnotes were LONGER THAN THE ACTUAL POEM. When you’re in school, and you’re dealing with this strange/difficult to understand dribble…you often feel quite stupid. Poetry is often like a foreign language—you recognize some of the words, but the meaning is obscured behind fancy layer after layer of dual meaning and double entendre.
Now, just because something makes you feel stupid doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s bad (after all, you may just be stupid, right?). But if there’s one thing that Creative Writing classes have taught me (and Creative Writing has taught me more than just one thing) it’s that sometimes/most times NOT EVEN THE POET KNOWS WHAT THE HELL HIS/HER POEM IS ABOUT.
You have no idea how many times I’d sit there and listen to someone say they didn’t know what their poem was about. Of course, the rest of the class (and the teacher) had opinions about this. They’d claim to “know” what the poem was about. And the author would nod and agree. And just like that, the meaning of the poem was “decided.”
I often wonder how many of the “great” works in the poetry canon have been treated in just this manner. Picture it: some 17th century dude, drunk off his ass on Absinthe is just trying to get laid. So he writes a sloppy, drunken love letter to a courtesan he knows. She of course is a typical woman, and saves EVERYTHING. The letter gets passed down through the years AND BOOM! I’m stuck in British Lit II trying to figure out what the hell it all means.
Just because a guy was drunk and horny—he didn’t have any aim other than getting past a few chastity belts.
And yet I have to pay for his lechery.
No other literary medium can say that MORE PEOPLE ENJOY WRITING IT THAN READING IT. But it’s true. After all, how often do you sit down and read poetry? Exactly. Poetry was a fad that’s come and gone. If you stop and think about it, poetry is a lot like the messages on Twitter. Short and concise, the “Tweets” are mostly written by drunk guys trying to get laid.
Just like poetry.
Alright, time to retract some of that hate (after all I was an English major). There are some great poems, and some pretty good poets…but for the most part, I hated studying poetry. I hated feeling my eyes glaze over after the 150th line of free verse.
But I’ve saved the worse for last—when I was younger I too dabbled in the dark art of poetry. This is a shameful part of my literary career, one that I’m going to bravely share with you in the hopes of preventing such tragedy from every occurring again.
Bad poetry is all too common. Please, don’t judge me too harshly…
Yikes. See what I mean? Poetry sucks.
I didn't have to read or write as much as an English major (and yes, I’m perfectly aware of the irony in that statement). What people don’t realize is that History majors read a TON of books and write a TON of papers. In the one semester that I was a History major I was expected to write twice the amount of papers that I did my second year as an English major.
But it wasn't just laziness that brought me back—I had a few encouraging teachers that told me I should make the switch, and I missed reading novels for homework.
However, there was one thing that discouraged me from coming back to the English department.
Poetry.
I know this is going to sound really bad, but I hate poetry. At least, I hate the academic definition of poetry. Which by the way, what is that again?
One of the pitfalls of poetry is that just about anything COULD be poetry. It really just depends on how liberal your instructor is.
Poetry (as defined by Wikipedia): is a form of literary art in which language is used for its aesthetic and evocative qualities in addition to, or in lieu of, its apparent meaning. Which basically means “pretty words chosen because they sound good, look good on paper, and will make the writer appear smart.”
Bonus points if the reader has no FUCKING CLUE what the exact message the author is trying to convey.
If it were a sport, Poetry would be Cricket. It’s needlessly complicated and aristocratic at its worse—and childish and unintelligent at its best.
I always catch hell for this belief, and I can understand that…most people have poetry shoved so far down their throats that they have it coming out their rectum. But the truth of the matter is, an appreciation for poetry is like an appreciation for cod liver oil. And just like cod liver oil, we ingest poetry because we’re told its “good for us.”
Prose is a superior medium to enlighten and convey ideas. Prose can be “poetic” in nature, but rarely is it as obtuse and maddening as 99.999% of the poetry I was forced to read. I’ve read books and novels with footnotes…but some of the poetry that I was forced to read in college required footnotes that often HAD footnotes.
I’m not even joking.
And don’t get me started on the poems whose footnotes were LONGER THAN THE ACTUAL POEM. When you’re in school, and you’re dealing with this strange/difficult to understand dribble…you often feel quite stupid. Poetry is often like a foreign language—you recognize some of the words, but the meaning is obscured behind fancy layer after layer of dual meaning and double entendre.
Now, just because something makes you feel stupid doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s bad (after all, you may just be stupid, right?). But if there’s one thing that Creative Writing classes have taught me (and Creative Writing has taught me more than just one thing) it’s that sometimes/most times NOT EVEN THE POET KNOWS WHAT THE HELL HIS/HER POEM IS ABOUT.
You have no idea how many times I’d sit there and listen to someone say they didn’t know what their poem was about. Of course, the rest of the class (and the teacher) had opinions about this. They’d claim to “know” what the poem was about. And the author would nod and agree. And just like that, the meaning of the poem was “decided.”
I often wonder how many of the “great” works in the poetry canon have been treated in just this manner. Picture it: some 17th century dude, drunk off his ass on Absinthe is just trying to get laid. So he writes a sloppy, drunken love letter to a courtesan he knows. She of course is a typical woman, and saves EVERYTHING. The letter gets passed down through the years AND BOOM! I’m stuck in British Lit II trying to figure out what the hell it all means.
Just because a guy was drunk and horny—he didn’t have any aim other than getting past a few chastity belts.
And yet I have to pay for his lechery.
No other literary medium can say that MORE PEOPLE ENJOY WRITING IT THAN READING IT. But it’s true. After all, how often do you sit down and read poetry? Exactly. Poetry was a fad that’s come and gone. If you stop and think about it, poetry is a lot like the messages on Twitter. Short and concise, the “Tweets” are mostly written by drunk guys trying to get laid.
Just like poetry.
Alright, time to retract some of that hate (after all I was an English major). There are some great poems, and some pretty good poets…but for the most part, I hated studying poetry. I hated feeling my eyes glaze over after the 150th line of free verse.
But I’ve saved the worse for last—when I was younger I too dabbled in the dark art of poetry. This is a shameful part of my literary career, one that I’m going to bravely share with you in the hopes of preventing such tragedy from every occurring again.
Bad poetry is all too common. Please, don’t judge me too harshly…
Grape-Flavored Teardrops
A poem by Jason Wendleton (age 17)
It’s so cool and pure,
It’s so sweet
It can be so very, very sweet.
With a spring in the step
And the shuffle in your feet.
The smile on your face says
It all: Life can be so sweet.
As you flock to the sunshine
Wave to the people that you meet.
‘Cos like a grapeflavored teardrop,
Life is both sad and sweet.
Sad and sweet,
Get to know them both.
Sad and sweet,
Life’s both so sad—and sweet.
It’s so sweet.
Yikes. See what I mean? Poetry sucks.
BONUS:
5 comments:
such a crappy post
I could never get into poetry very easily. I don't know. My brain just isn't wired to get it. When I was in a Fiction/Poetry workshop at UMSL, we had to do the whole group discussion thing and most of the other people in there were poetry guys, so when it was my turn to speak, I was like "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... I really liked the, uh, symbolism. About the dog. And society. It was really strong. Images. You know?"
Bad memories. BAD.
(and a GOOD post)
No Mike, the problem isn't with your brain--it's with poetry. Poetry just sucks.
Girls write poetry and not just to get laid.
There once was a girl from Nantucket...
Ha! Hilarious Terri!
I wondered what you'd have to say about this post...
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