Ended the semester with way too many blog post titles up my sleeve so I’m throwing them all in here now.
Also, in Googling “And Then There Were None” to make sure it was actually the title of that book I read in sixth grade, I found the original title was “Ten Little N*****s”, who knew! That would have been SO much harder to incorporate into a blog post, so I thank the East Aurora Middle School for buying the later editions.
It better not be any colder than 50 degrees when I get home tomorrow, because that’s how cold it’s been in Egypt and I’m pretty sure I have acquired frostbite. It even went so far as to snow in Jordan and other parts of the Middle East, setting off another wave of global warming denials from my magazine writing class. Now they’re claiming it is a Western myth to prevent them from industrializing like we did. It was too awkward for me to tell them it’s because we industrialized the way we did that global warming exists, and hence they should really be more careful than we were and I’m really sorry about that.
My international development class has turned out to be no help in such arguments, as the underlying thesis of the class turned out to be international development is nigh impossible and the world would be better off without neo-colonialist USAID. Despite the obvious implications of scratching USAID’s budget (I wouldn’t have anywhere to spend my summers reading resumes), with all that cash we could buy at least one, if not two, fighter jets, which are way more exciting than building schools anyway.
My media ethics course ended without much fanfare. Last night when I was supposed to be studying for today’s final, Celine Dion’s “All by Myself” was finally surpassed as the most played song on my iPod by “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” by Mariah Carey, who I like to imagine is singing to me. I’m a-coming Mariah! The exam, I thought, was challenging.
Perhaps, shockingly, the class I learned the most from this week was Romantic Literature. It had started like any other lecture, but then suddenly my professor fell into a Professor Trelawny (of Harry Potter fame, who gets a prophecy right about once every 15 years)-like trance, the girl next to me stopped snoring, and I snapped out of a day dream. He was talking about some character I didn’t know from some poem I didn’t read, but he said, “Here Prometheus asks the Gods never to feel pain, regret, guilt, or discomfort. Seems to me he is wishing away the human experience, something I would never wish for.” This is why Dumbledore hired him. And just like that he snapped back to his abstract, boring self, the girl next to me resumed her snoring, and I was left to ponder the wisdom of this eccentric academic.
This logic out of the blue very much applies to my time in Egypt. If you have read any of my previous posts, you’ll notice I focus on the times of hardship (i.e. camels, taxies and sandstorms). But for me the hard times are what made Egypt the great experience it was. I wanted to go somewhere not yet Westernized, and Egypt was just on the brink. And while I have had fun blogging about the difficulties involved in getting anything done here, I am grateful for the opportunity to experience what life is like in places where everything is not always so easy. And that is not a knock on you Madrid kids; I read your statuses about how hard it is to navigate the Madrid metro drunk. But I’m just really glad I got the chance to live in Egypt, but I’m even gladder it was only for four months.
It has always been my intention for this blog to go out on top, but then I couldn’t very well stop blogging my second day in Egypt. So I appreciate everyone taking the time to read my long, grammatically incorrect, drawn-out stories/thoughts. I’ve actually enjoyed blogging so much I considered agreeing to the many requests to continue once stateside (Emily vaguely mentioned it on my wall, and Katherine, Su, and Leslie liked it). But I fear that blog would become too much like Gossip Girl, a very, very boring Gossip Girl:
W challenged D to a FIFA game today, D won, W made a sandwich. Looks like somebody is eating his words, and his feelings!”
xoxo Plucky Peeper
Then The Eagle is holding a contest, “The Eagle’s Next Great Pundit” (who was their last?) to recruit a new columnist, but they’re making it incredibly strict by ruling out personal attacks and unsourced information. As my remarks within parentheses often indicate, two-thirds of my posts are made up of unsourced personal attacks. The other third? Titles.
So in a few hours, I am going to step onto a plane and leave Egypt, the blogosphere, and my beloved falafel behind. Do not ask for whom the departing flight bell tolls; it tolls for me.