Who wants to help me live on the edge and get me a pirated copy of the OED
So if my life were a story being studied in an English class, the teacher at this point might stop to take a look at how the civil war happening in my uterus right now is symbolic of the political turmoil dividing our country, or how it and the Midol I’m about to ingest are just an example of realism, where my pain is not symbolic, just sucky.
Both of these are wrong however, because of the format. This is a blogger analyzing life, self, and a commercial product, meaning that this is a brief amateurish example of metafiction (metanonfiction) social commentary.
Go home, you know who you’re following, people.
English Major Problems:
Realizing the comma splice you just wrote in a comment for a reblog.
SparkLife » The Best Pickup Lines for English Class, "In case you need some inspiration to get the dorky seduction started, here are a few ideas." (A post in which Victoria rages about things.)
I’m not even sorry; ARE YOU BLOGGERS FUCKING IDIOTS, or have you just not paid attention in English since Junior High because you were too busy spouting truly awful pickup lines in order to pay one damn iota of attention?
And you see, I would be laughing so fucking hard if this was written by nerds to
A nerd pickup line requires thought. It requires understanding. It requires shared interest. I should think it requires mutual respect. And all I am getting from this post is “You are not worth understanding. Your English class if for my crude passes at other students, not for learning the material.”
Well, Ms. Lisa Bernier, if that is not what you were going for, and if you find me completely bereft of a sense of humor, and if these are somehow both funny and respectful to every other English nerd on the planet, then on that thrice-conditional I hang my apology. I apologize wholeheartedly for perceived insult, I apologize for my language, I apologize for comments made towards the entity of author which I later put myself into the position of naming, I apologize for finding no humor in what apparently every other person on the planet finds hilarious. And most of all, I’m sorry I read your article in the first place.
Actually, as someone studying to be an English teacher, I am going to encourage this as a part of the writing process. Embrace your freakouts, even put them on paper, but just make sure you fix them later on.
(And I won’t be able to use profanity in the classroom, darn it all.)
Just holding “A Farewell to Arms” against my chest, cuddling it and saying, “Oh, baby—someone loved you enough to tell you about your flaws, didn’t they? You had an editor, didn’t you? Didn’t you~?”
(I’m comparing it to Virginia Woolf’s “To the Lighthouse.” Come on. Her husband was her publisher, and it was a literary novel written for the sake of artistic form and ideas and to explore stream of consciousness. And that is good, and I’m one of the few in the class who enjoyed the book. BUT THIS ONE! Oh, this baby got drafts! This baby was a manuscript with notes in red ink! This baby was flawed and fixed and still flawed and fixed some more! This baby was written for a general audience in a mass-market form instead of a literary crowd in an experimental form! Oh, you’re so easy to read you precious little peach!
And that’s why this book gets cuddles.
So after reading To the Lighthouse for Modern Novel, now I’m reading A Farewell to Arms. I literally just put the book on my face to appreciate it. <i>”Oh you sweet beautiful baby, you had an editor, didn’t you? Look at those darling paragraphs, that consistent perspective!”</i>
I’m sorry. I just have a lot of feelings about books. (And I actually liked To the Lighthouse. But that’s literary. It must be taken as it. This novel is a bit more mass-market, depending less on the reader to work hard at it for the sake of art, and with a bit more work on the part of the writer and editor to make a book for an audience. And it’s such a beautiful, wonderful contrast.)
ENGLISH WITH ME.