It is that time of the quarter, when many humanities students
have a very difficult task ahead of them. They face a problem that,
despite a long-despised existence, still plagues millions of
students. It is not something you can explain or something you even
like to talk about. It can be a most embarrassing and painful time.
Yes, my friends, I am indeed talking about essay writing.
As if it was not an arduous enough chore to complete one
thoughtful and insightful paper, more often than not, it seems like
every class lowers this burden on its students at the exact same
time. Perhaps you South Campus dwellers have forgotten how awful
these compositions can make you feel, so I will try and describe it
as well as I can. These assignments quickly lock your insides up
and leave you feeling sick. Honestly, maybe the best comparison is
that writing an essay is a lot like being constipated.
For the unsuspecting student, nothing seems to be wrong. It does
not matter that nothing is coming out. There is always tomorrow or
the next day. So what if there hasn’t been a “vowel
movement” in recent memory? When the time comes, there is
trust that something will fall on that white resting place. But you
soon recognize that all is not right. The juices are not flowing
and the insides are not turning. All of a sudden you realize
something is seriously wrong and time is running out.
You decide to call up a friend and get a laxative, a remedy that
will help push things on their way. But what is this? Everyone is
cranking things out except you. It seems everyone else has great
ease in pushing their ideas out. Now the first tear falls from your
eye and with a look of fear and determination, you decide to do the
only thing left: Force it out.
You walk into a quiet room, turn around, and lock the door. You
walk over to that seat and plant yourself down. Maybe reading a
newspaper or a magazine article will give you a little inspiration,
but soon enough you find it has done you no good. So you begin to
squint and squeeze, trying to make something, anything, come out.
Nothing. You start pushing and pushing. What you are going through
is not natural. Maybe a few more cups of coffee and some more bran
muffins will do the trick? No, it is time to end the suffering
here.
You begin to push again, this time clutching the side of the
stationary throne to which you are glued. What is this? All of a
sudden you feel something. It is all starting to come.
You do not question why or how, all that matters is something is
cascading through you. The suffering is almost over. What was once
impossible to start is now flowing to a finish. As the final drop
is splashing down, you cannot help but sigh with utter relief.
Minor annoyances such as being out of paper do not even seem to
phase you. You have conquered Goliath; you have overcome this
hardship. Your essay is done.
Now it is time to get up and walk away. However, once up you
cannot help but think of what you did. In an instant the smile is
gone and a horrific look covers your face. After all that work,
after all that time and patience, all you have is crap.
Pfohl is a fourth-year history and political science
student. E-mail him at jpfohl@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments
to viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.