My professor told me I wrote like Jamaica Kincaid…

•May 29, 2012 • 1 Comment

…that’s what made me love this essay. Pretty much fictional…wanted to experiment with second person narration. I just found this on my computer.

—-

Brett Murphy

Fall 2011

Cinema and Modernity

 

The Private University

 

When you turned one, your parents received a $100 savings bond in a Hallmark card: “It’s never too early to start saving for education. Can’t believe she’s already a year old. Love Auntie Giuli.” You turned two, and then three, and received a few more. Four, five, six. Your parents naively believed that between their sporadic deposits into your “college” account and your annual birthday bonds, paying for college might be manageable.

[Eighteen years later they’ll look back and realize that they didn’t research the inflation rate of college tuition. They didn’t calculate exactly how much they would have to save to even pay for half of your education if rates continued to increase at that percentage.]

Shortly after your 16th birthday and your 16th birthday bond, you began touring schools. The first one looked nice, but the campus was too small. You decided to apply to the second one because of the international business major. The third one’s freshmen dorms were too cramped for your liking, but your SAT scores were right on point with their median number. You definitely applied to all your “reach” schools. You wanted to go the “best” school you possibly could. Plus, you wanted to go to a better school than your best friend. Actually the main reason was to go to a better school than your best friend. Your parents surely seemed excited about the “Middlebury” sticker for the van and not so much about the “UMass Lowell” one. “Honey imagine? The guys at work will ask me where you go to school and I will tell them ‘Oh my daughter goes to Middlebury.’ Ha! They won’t believe it.”

[Eight years later you’ll look back and wish you didn’t get vacuumed into the petty high school competition of who could go to the best school. You’ll wish that you didn’t care so much about what your dorm room could look like on your Facebook page.]

You applied to few “safeties,” too, but only for peace of mind. So help you God, you were going to go to a “top school.” That is, a top school in accordance with US News and World Report rankings. Who writes the US News and World Report rankings? I could Google it, but I couldn’t tell you offhand.

You got into Middlebury. You got into Bates. You got into Brandeis. Insignificantly, you also got into UMass Lowell and Worcester State. Decisions, decisions! You toiled day and night that spring, deliberating with your parents at the kitchen table about which was the “best school” for you.

You chose a “top school.” Classes didn’t start until 10AM, your dad was impressed with the top-of-the-line athletic facility, and your mother thought it sounded like a supportive environment. Seemed like the best “education.”

[Four years later you’ll look back and realize that it didn’t occur to you to look up the professors in your program and their level of scholarship and publication in their field. You didn’t look up the academic databases available to you in the library. You didn’t ask about internship opportunities in your field. You never actually paid attention to the “education” part of your education.] 

 

You went to the school bookstore and went nuts: sweatshirts, car decals, the works. The next Monday morning, you went to your high school English class sporting a T-shirt with the college’s name and mascot. Your teachers said “Good for you, that’s a great school.” Your friends said “Oh wow, I can’t believe you got in there!!”

As the first semester approached, you received your financial award letter. Only a grant for $1000. The rest of your “awards” were loans with a 7% interest rate. Your older brother had just gotten a car loan with an interest rate of 2%.

In a matter of days, you were $50,000 in debt. Wait a second, that’s a lot of money. And wait, you have to do this for four years. Your mom reassured you, “Honey, everybody ends up in debt after school. But a four year degree is important for your future. Have you ever seen The Chart?” She showed you The Chart demonstrating how, on average, college grads with a four year degree earn up to $20,000 more per year than just a high school graduate.

[Five years later, the painfully obvious factoid that UMass Lowell would have given a four-year BA just as Middlebury did will deeply sink into your brain. You’ll realize that the difference between Middlebury and UMass Lowell was $140,000--not the quality of your education. You’ll barely remember the last names of the hometown people you wanted to impress with what schools you got into. You’ll be one year graduated and waitressing double shifts. You’ll owe the equivalent of a handsome mortgage payment in school loans every month. You’ll sit down in your bedroom, located in your parents’ house, and find the T-shirt with your college’s name and mascot that you wore to English class that day in highschool. You’ll have no choice but to come to terms with the paradox that is your life: you went to college to make more money and get a “real” job, and have instead ended up back at square one, in the financial red, serving soup, salad, and breadsticks with a curfew at age 22. You’ll remember that day that you sported your university fashion to high school English class and realize: that was one expensive T-shirt.]

 

Doc Martens are out

•May 22, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I wouldn’t wear them. I wouldn’t wear Birkenstocks. I wouldn’t wear shoulder pads, high rise jeans. Neither would you. We glide, fluidly, through styles and trends and fads. We adjust. 

But we sport the ugliness of our formative years so loudly. Like we are carrying a water-damaged boombox blaring the macarena. It hurts. Everyone wants us to stop, but we can’t.

We can’t stop dealing the diagnoses and receiving them from others. We can’t stop being read like textbooks.

Defensive? Abused. Doesn’t play well with others? Only child. Older boyfriend? Daddy issues. Asymmetrical face? Crack baby. 

We want to say: “go where I go and be where I’ve been.” Each of us would love to remove those chunky, outdated gel-sole shoes and toss them someone else’s way. See if someone else can handle the molded arch of your tired body. 

We can choose to remove unfashionable footwear, but it’s a lot harder to kick off our souls. 

Post-undergraduate fiscal year recap

•May 11, 2012 • Leave a Comment

“Life ain’t always what you think it ought to be”

I was driving in my car today and it dawned on me: I’ve been out of college for a year. In that time…

  • I worked as a copywriter.
  • I worked in a corporate environment as a copywriter
  • I wore heels to work
  • I taught
  • I taught in Boston
  • I taught people who don’t speak my language
  • I taught English grammar
  • I had my own classroom
  • I started graduate school
  • I completed four graduate courses
  • I worked as a writing consultant
  • I worked as a writing consultant at my favorite job I’ve ever had
  • I worked as a TA
  • I got my Celiac under control
  • Thus resulting in deflating to a healthier shape
  • I wrote the best paper I’ve ever written in my life
  • I started this blog
  • I started writing a book
  • I boosted my caffeine tolerance
  • I broke up
  • I fell in love

I’ve been trying to live life more fully. But I should probably remember that I never ever let it get that empty, anyhow :) .

Nice song

•May 11, 2012 • Leave a Comment

A sweet song

•April 23, 2012 • 2 Comments

The problem is, sometimes I imagine the most beautiful fragments in my mind being sung when I commit them to paper: letting even the littlest word jump harmoniously off the page. Maybe I just don’t have due confidence in my phrasal bridges and clausal melodies.

I want the diction to reverberate in your ears. I want my conclusions to spring off your tongue as the last word of my paragraph lingers like a ringing fermata. Like for what I want to say next.

Imagine what it’s like when you find the icy cold lotion for your sunburn. The Skittles for your munchies. The flashlight for your basement. The Technicolor switch for your monochrome film. It’s what it’s like when there’s complete satiety, warmth, light, and sweet sweet songs. You’d want to shout about it, sing about it. Or maybe, if you’re me, you’d want to write about. Scream with words, lyricize with letters. As long as it resonates. 

Obsessed. Why have I never heard this before now??

•April 20, 2012 • 2 Comments

Makes me think of you ♥

 

Absolutely love this song

•April 18, 2012 • Leave a Comment
 
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