Witnessing a Paper

I decided to write my 8-10 page midterm for my Joyce class on one paragraph of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, a famous book about a boy growing up and figuring out who he is. It's really difficult to write an essay for a class you don't like. This paper has come smoothly but I think that's because I don't think it's a brilliant essay. It's actually a pretty boring paper:

At the end of book one of James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, young Stephen Dedalus reflects on his encounter with the rector. "He was alone. He was happy and free." Then, "he wished that he could do something kind for [Father Dolan] to show him that he was not proud" (64). Underlying this thought is Stephen's idea that conflict resolution is possible: he succeeded in complaining to the rector; he can succeed in convincing Father Dolan that he isn't really a bad boy. In book two, though, we quickly learn that the respect Stephen thought he received from the rector was only patronizing indulgence. When Stephen participates in a school play, he has a new mentality that happiness, which is still conceived of as being "alone" (85), proceeds from withdrawal. This other extreme is no more satisfying or lasting than the first, but a close reading of Stephen's explanation for isolation reveals a stubbornness for insignificance that, a contrario, is an encouraging statement of empowerment for downtrodden Irishmen.

At least, that's my first paragraph while I only have five pages finish. By the time I reach my conclusion, I might have changed my mind and think Joyce is actually supporting Irish despondency.

If you want to read the rest of the paper, you can:


I think if you click on the picture, you can see a full-size version where you can read all my notes. This is how I write essays. There's no spatial organization, but I do find that I write bigger when there isn't anything on the page, so my final comments before I started a draft are scribbled in between other, less relevant things. You might be able to tell I started this essay in Library West. Where else would I encounter freshmen girls who were desperately cramming for a pre-calc exam? I can do absolute value problems!

Math is a surprising portion of my schedule. Mallory and I take a math class together every semester, but I have to catch up since I was in China in the spring, so I'm in diff-eq and my proofs class. We took our first test in the proofs class, and I was marked down for not being thorough enough proving that anything times zero is zero. I love that class.

But back to my paper. You might be able to tell I'm having trouble focusing. I've channeled some of my non-focus into Facebook messenger, which sucks as a messenger unless you really, really want to procrastinate and don't care if you're talking to your best friend from second grade's cousin because you both happen to be online. But it's okay, because the girl I was talking to is in my class working on her paper, too. So it's practically like I'm writing my essay.

Since my essay is boring and hers is about Spanish, we talked about religion. I got to share with her about what I believe ("witnessing," to use the Christian parlance). I thought it'd be weird if we had a deep conversation online over Joyce. Last night at RUF the preacher was talking about how we shouldn't be afraid to get in conversations with people about God. Then I was pulled over coming out of the parking lot because my headlights weren't on, and the cop asked where I was coming from. "RUF," I began, thinking of the sermon. "It's a Christian ministry..." But the cop left without converting and I left without a ticket.

But for tonight, all people will be witnessing is someone doing a fantastic job finishing up his Joyce paper.