I am a history major. Even if history were not my declared concentration of study, my academic disposition and behavior woud still characterize me as the epitomy of a history major. I part my hair to the side and I wear a pencil in my ear. I take notes on a yellow legal pad. In pen. Because the pen means I'm a professional history major. It's a pride thing. It means I don't need to erase because I don't make mistakes. Because I'm a history major. I keep the pencil in my ear. Because the pencil isn't sharp and the eraser doesn't work. But I still have it there because I'm a history major. I keep my yellow legal pad, along with my other books and documents, in a black soft-sided briefcase. I use the word "documents." I talk at length about being a history major. And why it makes me better than you. And how "...you bio majors can know all the science there is to know, but if you don't know some history, then you don't know shit about a damn thing." I'm a tactless, arrogant sonofabitch. I bring up obscure historical references in the course of daily conversation. I pretend to know what I'm talking about when I don't. Especially in discussion classes. All my classes are discussion classes. I sit right in the front and say things under my breath so that the professor knows I know things but the rest of the class doesn't think I'm that jackass who has to say all the answers. Or either I sit way in the back with this smirk on my face that lets people know I know something they don't. It's called the history major smirk. I face away from the showerhead. I read history books for fun. But I can't for the life of me sit down to a novel. I watch the history channel. A lot. I grow increasingly bitter about the human condition every day. I'm painfully nostalgic for times before I was even born. I hang out in Morton outside the history office. My opinion is right, not because I've studied at length and crafted it carefully based on the historical evidence, but just because I'm a history major. I think all the other majors are for illiterate liberal sissies. I like to string big words together to coin terminology that doesn't actually mean anything but sounds important. But that's also true of psych majors. If they were as smart as history majors. Which they are not. I talk to my professors. About nothing. I just have to make sure they know who I am. I use complex sentence structure. I use slang from the 1970's. And the 1870's. I distort the historical record to prove whatever point I want. That is, whichever point you don't agree with. I play devil's advocate. More than I should. I've sat in the same seat in the same room in Morton for at least one course every semester. I read. I read till my eyes bleed. Then I read some more. And write. I write till my that little vain in my temple explodes. I think writing twenty pages is a bit of an undertaking, but perfectly reasonable. I can write a five page paper and not even get started. I am a history major. And I'm damn good at making sure that's perfectly clear.
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