And on the third day her tears subsided and although Kate was crying on the inside, she got out of bed, took a shower, and took on the day.
Seriously though, today has been the better of my last 6 days, so I need to give it a little recognition. Thank you, Wednesday, for being less shitty than the last two! No one went to the hospital, no computers crashed, no one got in a fight–I was starting to lose faith in Wednesdays.
So, I have a little “qualm” to pick with the members of my Tolkien class. Now, you need to understand, this isn’t your ordinary class. First off, who woulda thunk I’d be able to study one book about wizards and fairies for the whole semester? Now, add to that equation, youtubes of Lord of the Rings Spoofs, Class-long discussions of art and society in America, and questions of homosexuality between Sam and Frodo? Welcome to my J.R.R. Tolkien class. I should have expected it, and it scared the shit out of me on the first day, considering the book was 1000 pages long. But I have to say, it’s actually pretty cool and so are the people in it. I find myself snickering at their inside jokes about Gollum, making snide comments about Frodo, and arguing about the mapping of Middle Earth. I sometimes try to repeat these jokes and comments to my friends and they stare and sigh and realize I’ve joined the land of Live Action Role Playing and World of Warcraft. Seriously though, I can’t help it. They’re all pretty cool cats. Here’s where I draw the line: Don’t start talking about the unrealistic nature of Middle Earth’s mountains based on the fact that tectonic plates couldn’t have formed them. I mean, there comes a point when you’re going a little too far and need to tone it down a bit. It’s a book of FICTION. The End.
And that’s my rant on the land of Mordor and the anxious readers that have formed the future scientists and engineers of our country. As for me, I’m still going to be a high school teacher teaching English. Although now, I will probably slip in a Tolkien reference or two at some point, but don’t hold me to that.
I do think it would be rad to speak Elvish, only because you could talk all the smack you wanted about someone right in front of them and there would be only 20 other people on the planet who would be able to translate. So there you are standing next to a fine gentleman in his popped collar and spikey blonde hair, taking jager bombs, snickering at you and your dorkiness, and all you’re doing is telling him that he smells bad, needs to stop tanning, and has an unzipped fly. Oh, and that jager bombs don’t make you a tough ass.
J.R.R. Tolkien, Eat your heart out.
