The Confessions of a Failed Literature Graduate

Welcome to the meme wall of shame.

I am pretty proud of the fact I have a bachelor's degree in literature. I loved my teachers at Eureka College, most especially Dr. Kathy Whitson and Dr. Ann McCormick. I loved being opened up to the world of literary criticism, being exposed to stories from around the world, tackling a text from every side of the issue, and attempting to understand a text from the vantage point of someone vastly different from myself, even if it challenged my own beliefs. I loved immersing myself in classic and modern works of literature, poetry, and drama from Britain, America, Europe, Russia, India, South America, Africa, and Japan. I loved reading challenging texts. Never have I felt more human then when my heart and consciousness is buried in a book.

And yet, I look back on the ten years it has been since I graduated and can only think I have not been a good literature major. I have not taken advantage of the portals my education opened up to me. I have had the most amazing ten years and have no actual regrets. And yet...there is this everpresent burden weighing on me, that not only did I not give it my all while in college, I also have not given it my all in the time after college. I am reading and writing all the time (some pretty heady stuff I might add!) but I have not read the books I thought would in the decade after getting my degree.

Therefore some repentance is in order. I need to get my literary failings (or should I say sins?) off my chest. Please, will you hear my confession? I seek to get my relationship with books right.