My reality is better than your reality
I am fully ensconced back in my reality; my reality where phrases like "the mimesis of the material antecedents of perception" are casually bandied about. Where I start using words like "ensconced".
It feels both familiar and unfamliar at the same time. This reality is a zone I am comfortable in, but at the same time, I have to deal with the cognitive dissonance that my major has little "use" (oh, horrific word) in "real life". Please note the apostrophe marks. I tell you what I like about my major. I like it that I can learn so much about life and lives just by dedicating a few days to reading a book. I like it that I gain so much perspective with regards to things like evil, morality and love.
What I am struggling with, is the fact that I don't know how I can help people in "real" life armed with this knowledge. I despair at the fact that so few people read fiction and poetry because they regard those as belonging in the domain of an elite few. I belong to the camp which believes that art can and should be accessible to many. But so what if it is? If it faces so much resistance, what hope does it have of changing the world?
If I were to pursue my love for literature to its practical ends, I would have to come to terms with this. I would have accept and be resigned to the fact that I will be in an ivory tower, although not by choice. I will be living my life passing on my knowledge to all those who will feel the way that I feel now and by bandying phrases like "the mimesis of the material antecedents of perception" with other people in this field.
And this is what bothers me.
It feels both familiar and unfamliar at the same time. This reality is a zone I am comfortable in, but at the same time, I have to deal with the cognitive dissonance that my major has little "use" (oh, horrific word) in "real life". Please note the apostrophe marks. I tell you what I like about my major. I like it that I can learn so much about life and lives just by dedicating a few days to reading a book. I like it that I gain so much perspective with regards to things like evil, morality and love.
What I am struggling with, is the fact that I don't know how I can help people in "real" life armed with this knowledge. I despair at the fact that so few people read fiction and poetry because they regard those as belonging in the domain of an elite few. I belong to the camp which believes that art can and should be accessible to many. But so what if it is? If it faces so much resistance, what hope does it have of changing the world?
If I were to pursue my love for literature to its practical ends, I would have to come to terms with this. I would have accept and be resigned to the fact that I will be in an ivory tower, although not by choice. I will be living my life passing on my knowledge to all those who will feel the way that I feel now and by bandying phrases like "the mimesis of the material antecedents of perception" with other people in this field.
And this is what bothers me.
posted by Duh-knees at 1:46 AM
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