Becoming an English Major

The first conundrum that lands on the mind of a newly graduated high school student is probably their major in college. When I graduated in high school, I was a deadpan when my parents would ask me about it. I was undecided with my future and I remained that way for months. There were just so many things I want to do in my life but my options are far too meager. Plus, I was unnerved by how modifying a decision I am making to my life and the extent of its consequences. Yes, I was indeed paranoid.

After so much imploring from my mother and my sister, I decided to take English as my major even though choosing journalism was growing into me. The only reason why my mother coaxed me into selecting this major is the fact that a degree in English will make me a good lawyer someday. It was my vanity to comfort my mom to take law, but deep inside, I never really wanted to meddle with other people’s quarrels. There was another option, that’s for me to work for rich felons to gain lots of money with my law degree, but I was never a money hungry vulture who enjoys money-making ventures.

I was never decided until the end of my first semester in college.

I loved English more than I imagined. I loved reading but not until I got soaked up in immense reading assignments and essays to write that I esteem it and welcome it like now, despite the sometimes unnecessary over-analysis of works. Likewise, I can truly say that I love my major despite the incessant question that lies in the back of every English major’s mind, “What exactly do you plan to do with an English major?”

I have no good answer to that. And I can’t even recall what I countered to that same startling question during my college application interview.

Yes, there are days that the thought of having no specific path towards a career in my future frightens me. But never in my waking moments did I regret my major.

I am the freak in my family, having been this boring, melodramatic and constantly unspeaking child that I am. I am the child who stays up late at night with her book in her lap, crying immensely because Tess d’Urbervilles was abandoned by Angel Clare. I am the child who is constantly being reprimanded of her being stagnant in one corner staring far-off. I am their daughter who would rather spend her school incentives on books than on garments. The one who never goes out of the house…the list of my absurdities could go on. It was as if the powers of my destiny conspired into me the traits of the dreary and capricious English major.

I can still remember my fellow staff’s remark on my major. Nong Mitz, is a very good-natured friend and he said that my major is easy because all I have to do is read.

Contrary to his belief, majoring in English is not easy. But I won’t say that it is harder than other majors. I think all majors are the same in degree of toughness. To be able to stay on track with my major, I need tenacious will power and dedication. I have to get up in the middle of the night because my paper due tomorrow will not let me. Professors assign countless reading assignments when you still have a pile of novels to finish. You have to finish a book despite the loathsome and sometimes vitriolic play of words.  My classes are virtually boring to other non-majors.

I have this certain feeling however, that English majors have a different perspective in life, a different facet. The ruthless over-analyzing, the unceasing compulsion to evaluate not only literature but the entirety of life will definitely not go to nothing. And indeed, because of this, we tend to become paranoid, demented, emotional, melodramatic and idealistic but I believe that this is part of the endeavor. These are but part of the attempt to appreciate the richness and depth of life.

One time, I was in the mini-forest in my University and a non-English major friend asked me if I was ill or if there was something wrong. Conflicting to her perception of my state, I was very much blissful. I was observing the spectacular canopy formed by the trees and I just wanted to take everything in, to live in that moment, to observe every detail, as if taking a mental photograph of the scene that it won’t leave my mind when those exquisite leaves start to wither and fall.

This happens to me every day. The urge to not miss a thing, the impulse to narrate everything that’s happening in sight, the desire to write about the magnitude if the finest detail in poetic verse. I feel this every day of my life and I know this happens to fellow English majors, too. I became this insightful being, attentive to the things that unfold to the nature of men and beyond.

Despite the insufferable negative stereotypes that come with my major, I’ve never felt this fulfilled in my life. I know that something profound is happening to me. And whatever awaits in in my future, even if it would be a rickety track, even if I’d be a lowly and plain soul, I’d be happy to be in comfort with my constant friends and loyal companions, my books and my paper.