Hmm...As I wrote that title, it occurred to me that the Latin word for "why" is "cur." I don't know if curious is a derivative, but that is still awesome. So, to answer the question some people have been asking, why should I drop the Ancient Languages major, and instead walk down the path of English, notably, English Writing? The question is a serious one. In fact, I could easily pursue the Ancient Languages major without more-than-average difficulty (seeing how I opened with the questioning of a derivative). So the question does not concern difficulty or anything of that nature, but instead, it is one more of benefit and enjoyment and compatibility.
I love Ancient Languages, most notably, Latin. I am a Latinus, not a Helenus. Meaning, I enjoy Latin more than Greek, but this love complicates things here at Wheaton, seeing how Greek and Hebrew (which I have not taken) are the major courses in the Ancient Languages discipline, while Latin is a distant third. Besides, as I have moved further away from 6-203 and Roberts' cave, my love of Languages has not diminished, as much as my love of Philosophy and the written word has increased.
With consideration on the future, what I want and what God wants to do with my life, and my passions, the Ancient Languages major seems to be more and more a fading thing. I guess I should expound on why I originally wanted to be an Ancient Languages major. Well, the reason is simple. I wanted to be a Bible translator, because of my love for missions. I still love missions, as I read Scripture more, and am challenged by it, I don't negative my purpose or goal in this life - to be missional. Now, what does that look like? Quite simply, it is living a life that in all words, but more importantly, in actions follows Christ. To be missional is to be a demonstration of Christ in the world, transforming the world through the relational invitation to come and join this little rebellion against the status quo of humanity, known as Christianity, more explicitly, being a disciple of Christ.
So where does an English Writing major, and for that matter a Philosophy major, come in? They come in to play like such - the world, especially the Church world, is in a shift. The secular words has generally already made the shift to postmodernity. But where is the Church? Lagging behind - not that we should follow the world, but we need to know how to communicate with it! At the beginning of epochs, such as this is, a few scholars direct the course of human thoughts and human undertaking through their works - notably, Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Bacon, and in the Church - Paul, Augustine, Aquinas, Luther, Calvin, Edwards, Chesterton and Lewis. Who will that be for this generation, this epoch? I think I have the responsibility to at least attempt to mark, through His grace, this world for good in a similar way. This is the reason I am pursuing the degree in Philosophy - to learn to sift through the ideas and the consequences. Why writing? The most affective ideas have come from the most effective communicators. I know I am not the best speaker, but I love to write and can hone that talent. My whetstone would be an English Writing major.
I hope that begins to answer the question. I am in the process of answering it as well, but as I have epiphanies or anything that resembles one, I will let you know.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Monday, January 21, 2008
Back at Wheaton
I have been back at Wheaton for a little over a week, and I think it is time for an update. Having need to state a few things, I have taken up once again the title of blogger. The list shall soon commence.
This semester will most definitely be insane. Not only do I have PHIL 312, History of Philosophy, deemed the hardest class at Wheaton, by many a student and professor, I will be reading over 2000 pages in my other classes alone! That's what I get when I take an English class.
Speaking of English, I am contemplating the idea of dropping my Ancient Languages major (switching to a minor, which would then be done by either summer or the end of next fall), and picking up, you guessed it, an English minor or major, specifically with a writing concentration.
Once again, speaking of writing (I love transitions and overusing them), I am making serious progress into my science-fiction novel. I am already on page six. Because of all the work that I have this semester, I have taken up writing as therapy. Every night before I go to bed, I sit down and I just start typing out my story. Hopefully, my progress continues to be stress-relieving, instead of the cause of it.
I am back. And I have hit the ground running.
This semester will most definitely be insane. Not only do I have PHIL 312, History of Philosophy, deemed the hardest class at Wheaton, by many a student and professor, I will be reading over 2000 pages in my other classes alone! That's what I get when I take an English class.
Speaking of English, I am contemplating the idea of dropping my Ancient Languages major (switching to a minor, which would then be done by either summer or the end of next fall), and picking up, you guessed it, an English minor or major, specifically with a writing concentration.
Once again, speaking of writing (I love transitions and overusing them), I am making serious progress into my science-fiction novel. I am already on page six. Because of all the work that I have this semester, I have taken up writing as therapy. Every night before I go to bed, I sit down and I just start typing out my story. Hopefully, my progress continues to be stress-relieving, instead of the cause of it.
I am back. And I have hit the ground running.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
No Title for This One
I am a timid person. My parents would disagree, most of my friends would, and I myself would, on occasion. But I realized something this semester, and very acutely tonight - I am timid. When I leave my element, which, granted, encompasses a lot, I freeze, I stop, I turtle. People that I have known for years, I can't speak to. I don't know exactly why.
When I get out of comfort zone, my little circle of security, I instantaneously shut down and protect myself. On top of my normal security around my heart, I add a double layer of fear and distrust. I have tried to break through it, but somehow, I cannot do it on my own. It's like a drowning man trying to save himself. HE JUST CAN'T. Sorry. He can try to stay afloat as long as he can, but sooner or later, he will sink. For me, it is more often sooner. Not that I blame anyone for not saving me. In fact, I blame myself, which adds another layer of protection, a layer of self-deprecation. If I already think poorly of myself, no one else can think more poorly of me than I do myself. Thus, I cannot be hurt. Nor can I heal.
And then I came back and try to intellectualize it and analyze it and come up with solutions, while writing to the proverbial you. But in the end, it is not something that can be; sadly enough. But I guess that's just life. And this intellectualizing is just another defense. Oh, this is logical. Oh, this is why I do that. Oh, this is the answer. I don't want answers, anymore. I just to be able to connect with people, and not having to worry about judgment, or rejection, or not being good enough, or anything of the like. I wish I could sleep for a year. Just let it all go away. It will all be better in a year, right? Two? A decade? A lifetime?
And I can't ever say this out loud either, but that's not how I communicate effectively. Just give me my safe pen and paper, or blog, or whatever. This is safe. But I don't want safe, anymore! I am begging, pleading for community. Someone open me up. Take out my bruised, barely beating heart, and please, teach it to thrive again. I am waiting, but I don't know how much longer I can wait. And so much is expected of me. Will I fail them all?
When I get out of comfort zone, my little circle of security, I instantaneously shut down and protect myself. On top of my normal security around my heart, I add a double layer of fear and distrust. I have tried to break through it, but somehow, I cannot do it on my own. It's like a drowning man trying to save himself. HE JUST CAN'T. Sorry. He can try to stay afloat as long as he can, but sooner or later, he will sink. For me, it is more often sooner. Not that I blame anyone for not saving me. In fact, I blame myself, which adds another layer of protection, a layer of self-deprecation. If I already think poorly of myself, no one else can think more poorly of me than I do myself. Thus, I cannot be hurt. Nor can I heal.
And then I came back and try to intellectualize it and analyze it and come up with solutions, while writing to the proverbial you. But in the end, it is not something that can be; sadly enough. But I guess that's just life. And this intellectualizing is just another defense. Oh, this is logical. Oh, this is why I do that. Oh, this is the answer. I don't want answers, anymore. I just to be able to connect with people, and not having to worry about judgment, or rejection, or not being good enough, or anything of the like. I wish I could sleep for a year. Just let it all go away. It will all be better in a year, right? Two? A decade? A lifetime?
And I can't ever say this out loud either, but that's not how I communicate effectively. Just give me my safe pen and paper, or blog, or whatever. This is safe. But I don't want safe, anymore! I am begging, pleading for community. Someone open me up. Take out my bruised, barely beating heart, and please, teach it to thrive again. I am waiting, but I don't know how much longer I can wait. And so much is expected of me. Will I fail them all?
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