It's All Greek To Me
UKZN has centralised it's timetable. Basically, the people in ivory towers make decisions without consulting the affected peasantry on the ground. The practical upshot of this is that, having been forced into Durban UKZN's timetable, the Pietermaritzburg UKZN must adopt an unfriendly and inconvenient new system wherein class clashes and inconviniences are rife. The more personal practical upshot of this, for me, is Art History clashes with English and something has to give. Long story short, I made a quick descision to sign on to ordinary History instead (the first year module I haven't done yet). That clashed too. I dug out an Art module in second semester, only to discover, yesterday, that it was a practical, meaning a lot of studio time and effort and limited vacancies. So that fell through too. In a panic, I was talking to Tracy, trying to think out my next move. The only other options I could see, seemed to be Zulu and Media, both first-year subjects, throwing my timetable into stretched and agonising days, and containing the dreaded tuts (being extra classes scheduled for more one-on-one work, and usually at obscure times, like late in the afternoons and on Fridays). "I just need to speak to someone who can help," I said to her. The dean is inundated with first years for the first couple of weeks of semester, and at the end of that time, the help she can give you is virtually non-existent. "The lecturers only know about their own subject, the dean's busy. You know, I just need someone who's well-informed about all the subjects I could pick up, and knows me and what I can do, and who takes an interest in me and what I'll enjoy." There was a pause and I said, "I'm describing God, aren't I?" Tracy laughed and replied, "I was going to say that." So I told Him so. Within 10 minutes, God had planted a new plan in my head. A small class presented itself to my mind, one containing a friend (the lack of which was a serious drawback to Media--I'm not keen to be the loner among firsties), one which was small, and when I checked the timetabling--it fit snugly every single day into one of my frees.
Within the next few hours, I was signed into Ancient Greek for beginners. Go figure.
I'd missed the first few lectures, and to anyone who is under the impression I'll be slacking, must be informed that between yesterday and now, I've had to learn a new alphabet (characters (and how to DRAW them!), lower and upper case, not forgetting the names of the letters--no simple ABCs here) three noun genders, the purpose of several accents, macrons and other dohickeys above letters, and very basic nominative and accusative cases, as well as some general vocab.
As life stands now, I'm taking two third-year English (Film and Romantiscism), second-year Spanish and French, and first-year Greek (in a class of three!). Second semester will see me only taking the other two English as necessary for my major, and Spanish, due to the overloading of first semester.
I will not have it said (not until second semester at least) that BA students don't work hard. This semester is going to test my strengths in very real ways, not only tackling half a major, but trying to combat two similar languages while trying to remember their differences, and then added to that, a language that is literally all Greek to me, and then the culmination of major wedding planning and stresses right in the middle. Please pray I don't break down again, and that I cope. Other than this particular minor worry, I think there's a good chance I could enjoy it.
A Cheery Attitude
It's been said that a bad attitude will get you nowhere. I'd like to take that further. Granted, a cheery attitude won't get you any further than a bad attitude (generally). But a cheery attitude can make everything brighter. Take Caitlin Montgomery, for instance, (one third of my Greek class). I don't think I've seen her truly despondent about anything. If something serious has gone downhill--the politics of the country, the administration of varsity--she will make light of the ridiculousness of the whole situation, and probably make you laugh with her. All in all, while stress and concerns have their place in her life, she still faces each day with a certain cheerfulness. It makes everything--especially mad things like taking Ancient Greek as a fifth module--far more pleasant. Not just to bear, but it lifts your mood to the orange happiness of hers.
The Shady, Breezy Walk to CVA
Going back to varsity this year was not, as per usual, a particularly inspiring experience, even if I managed to register in the blistering speed of only two hours. Going back, I feel less myself, a bit like a bee that has spent the whole long, lazy, warm day in the heady fragrances of flowers, and the immesity of freedom and now cannot cope in the hum of activity, the cramped day, and infuriating buzz and noise of the hive. However, some things God has given to me to help. Previously thought as a curse rather than a blessing, the afternoon lectures have a lullaby effect on the hive. The campus buzzing with activity and bursting with students in the morning, as 'Maritzburg warms to its scalding temperature for the day, is cooler, calmer and quieter by the afternoon. No one is competing with their car sound systems (or their racous conversation and laughter) to blast the windows from the surrounding buildings, the students have usually wandered off by then, leaving only the quietly devoted academics and chilled, laid-back scholars. Furthermore appreciation for the deep shade of intertwining trees on the walk to the CVA, combined with a fresh (if still warm) breeze, is managed with far more grace and satisfaction.
Time
On the subject of the CVA (Centre for Visual Arts lecture hall, where I have my English Film Studies lectures), there is something about that room that is outside the Space-Time continuum. Once in there, already there is something suspicious in that it will be the only room you've entered that day which is cool enough to chill you if you stay long enough. There is no outside light let in, so no sun to mark the passage of time, no clocks, and no outside noise of the exodus of students at the end of lectures every 50 minutes or so. The whole space seems to swallow time. And as you shuffle in the discomfort of the benches, you feel the lecturers have somehow managed to extract you from time. At any rate, their concept of it seems as laid back as if you had been plucked from time and could be replaced there whenever they choose to be done.
Labelling it makes it unoriginal
The sad thing about analysing something I so voluntarily study (being MOVIES!) in my free time seems to sap the moxie from it. Being told that they all were purely narrative, or followed the same pattern of set-up, conflict and resolution, immediately makes one resist it. You plan never to fall into the trap of telling a story like that, and almost subconsciously rebel against all those films and books you've enjoyed: just for being unoriginal. But see here, the problem wouldn't have come without the label. Without the labels, I would be happy in my ignorance concerning all these 'conventions.'
Ha! Now, having said that, the rant above has had the desired psychological effect on my mind: I am consequently determined to be unaffected by these labels, and to enjoy anyway all the previous pleasures of my ignorance.
Contemplation of the consciousness of the human ear
I am beginning to be of the opinion that the human ear is capabale of a vast amount. For example: when someone is drawling on and on about a subject in which you have no great interest and your attention wanders, and then is cut off from all recognisable thought in a dozy daze, you would expect that nothing but a sharp recall--a noise to pierce past the dreaminess and draw your attention--will bring you back. Not so. A lecturer can be dragging on, and even though my attention has been lost for some time, were she suddenly, without changing tone or intonation, to start saying "blah, blah, blah-blah, blah...." I would notice. Why? I have a theory that the human ear, in these cases, works harder than the brain (because the brain has switched off). The ear basically tells the brain that the information it is receiving is useless, (or a least that the brain is in no situation to comprehend it (or be bothered to)) and kindly advises it to turn off, and taking on the responsibility, the ear will listen without letting any of the drivel to reach the brain's conscious notice. It feeds the information in even when the brain is off, but directs it straight to the Junk pile, in the brain's absence (or unconsciousness), waking it only when there is a noticeable change. Indeed. As you can tell, I have been meditating on this theory of non-attentiveness for some time (and mostly in situations where I should have been attentive).
Of Enjoyable Subjects
One more thing to praise God for, is how well He knows me. I'm not talking about the small things--like the silly quirk I've had since I started the BA to one day be able to say I was taking 4 languages at a time--but on the whole. Now, for example, these two English courses. First of all, I am an adamant fan of the Romantic Literary era. Coleridge and Wordsworth, two of the greatest Romantics, are two of my favourite poets of all time, and coincidentally a main focus of this English course of mine. The same can be said for Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, another dear book to me. However much I despise Cathy, I adore Heathcliff, and the heightened Gothic elements prevalent in the story. Then there is this Film course. Even if the labelling has ruined the conventions I've so enjoyed, I am enjoying the ability to view films from the Classic Hollywood epoque, and to savour the story-telling techniques. The prospect of this analysis, of taking the film into one's hands and turning it over to view its intended effect and techniques from all angles seems to me exciting. Added to that is the advantage that when we move on to global cinema I will be refreshing and enjoying the expansion of my French and Spanish horizons with sub-titled films (although I hope not to need the sub-titles).
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