In keeping with the trend of the previous post, this post too was prompted by a book. This shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to you, reader, because as of now, the only stimulating things at arm’s length are books.
The only thing worse than scary university exams is the one month of ‘holidays’ prior to aforementioned scary university exams. You plan to accomplish six chapters a day, but then suddenly it’s 9 pm and you’re still on the second page of the first chapter wondering just how time got the better of you. As you chastise yourself for being useless, you rush to the one thing nobody can take away from you- your books. If it weren’t for reading, I’d be a rotten vegetable by now.
Anyway, I digress. I’ve taken to The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, though in regulated doses so that it’ll last a little longer. Today, I cheated. I went ahead and read three chapters in a row, and it took me every ounce of my will-power to stop.
An interesting issue came up in chapter 5. The protagonist, who’s doing a literature major and who has a particular passion for poetry is in conversation with her boyfriend of sorts, a medical student. ‘Do you know what a poem is, Esther?’ he asks self-importantly and then goes on to call it ‘a piece of dust’, thinking himself to be exceedingly witty.
Science and literature, I’ve come to notice, are always pitted against each other. Those with a passion for logic and rational thinking roll their eyes at worthless arts like poetry. It has to be one or the other, doesn’t it?
Well, I’m a medical student. (Hi. Thank you in advance for your condolences. 😋) And I can’t think of anything more beautiful than poetry. I adore science, reason and everything practical. At the same time, I can’t help but fall in love with literature, vagueness and exotic vocabularies. And I think a healthy mixture of both sides is a lot more enriching for my brain.
I’m loving this book so far, by the way. It’s too soon to judge though. More on this later. Speaking of being a doctor, I should probably go finish that second page, though. Baby steps. 🙈
If poetry is a piece of dust, it must be gold dust they allude to. Everything is dust, though, if you look closely enough. Doctoring dust, writing dust… All this dust is sparking off my allergies. xD
(Lame, Sas. 🙄)
(Shush, your opinion is null and void because you are dust.)