The 10th Muse- My last Blog

So here we are, the last week of classes and I'm only at 9 blogs. I confess that this is partially because I've been mocked for each of my last two blogs so far and thus it's a little hard to want to write more, but on the other hand I thought if I'm not going to write a ton of blogs let me give them each meaning. And so I assigned them each a muse.
1st blog: Calliope (Epic poetry)
2nd blog: Thalia (twisted comedy)
3rd blog: Erato (erotic poetry)
4th blog: Euterpe (lyrical poetry)
5th blog: Polyhymnia (sacred hymns)
6th blog: Urania (astronomy)
7th blog: Melpomene (tragedy)
8th blog: Terpsichore (music and dancing)
9th blog: Cleo (history)
I won't tell you how these muses fit with my blogs because you will assign them meaning even if I do tell you and you will see your meaning as more profound and better than that given by the author because that after all is what English Majors do.
I called this class a cult a while back and I will never recant that label. The cult of Sexson is strong in room 1-115 in Wilson hall MWF from 11-12. The cult is one that accepts Dr. Sexson's ideas and does not let them go even if they have faults in them. I think that although I have at times belonged fully to the cult there is one thing that I cannot accept and that has put a barrier between me and the other faithful members of this cult. I cannot accept that literary experiences are more important that real experiences. I know that Dr. Sexson will disagree and make me feel like a fool again for even saying such a thing but bullshit. Yes there are thousands of things that you can experience through literature; that is valid. Yet those things are missing one crucial piece and that is all of the little experiences that no one thinks are good enough to write about. No one can describe the feeling of waking up after a 7 month winter to the smell of rain. They can describe how much you wanted the rain and how it smells but they cannot make you feel that joy of knowing spring is here. I do not think that a person can get the same internal experiences from literature that they can from real life. And if we're living in a matrix and someday someone wakes me up with a blue pill fine then I will be awake and experience fully all of the things that world and if that proves to be a false reality so be it but I will have memories of the places I have been because I could describe them to you not because I've read someone else's descriptions and emotions but because I have felt and seen them. I know that some of you will go back to reading FW will a shrug and the idea that this is what the smartest man you know considers to be highbrow and intelligent. Well FW is indeed great. The flow of it's poetry and prose is fantastic, and while I don't think Joyce got everything he certainly got a lot in. It is glorious and beautiful but then so is the world. I find that as I read FW from beginning to end and end to beginning, page by page, I could put so much more into the pages that related to something I had seen or done. The beauty of experiencing literature is not that you get to experience more it is that you can relate the literary experience to your own and thus understand even clearer what the author is saying. And so from one cult member (for I never was able to give up the cult even though it ruined my day some days) to another I beg you go out and experience things in the world around you. Literature can only take you so far without reality to help you bridge the last gap.