A s I sit listening to Jay Leno continue his barrage of tired old Clinton jokes and watch local attorney Dennis Shillen hate to lose, I reflect on one thing. Well, a couple of things, but only one thing that I can write a column about. That is the curse of explanation.
"What is the curse of explanation?" you may ask. "And where can I buy a copy?" No, folks -- you don't want to buy this. In fact, you've probably already had it a couple of times. The curse of explanation is this: there is something in your life such that each time you mention it, you must include a detailed appendix or else your audience will not understand.
My latest case of the curse of explanation comes in the form of one of my courses. "So Jeff, what're you taking this term?" my comrades will ask innocently. Beware! Courses such as French 10 can be easily explained. It's French 10. Everybody knows French 10. Right? A language course, preparing me for my trip to Paris so that I will be the butt of only one hundred "stupid-American" jokes instead of two hundred. But when you take Japanese 10, it throws people for a loop. No, folks, Japanese 10 is not a language course! I have not decided to suddenly begin speaking mid-level Japanese just for kicks. I do not know Japanese. I know that neko means "cat", and dozo means either "please" or "more," I can't remember which (I suppose that the latter could lead to some embarrassing situations). Japanese 10 is an introduction to Japanese culture. But of course, I have to explain that, because when I say I'm taking Japanese 10, people initially respond with, "Oh, loading up on the languages, eh?" Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, or "My gosh! You're taking Japanese too? I had no idea. So, tetsuri amoro no yamakozi gaijin? Yakuza?" I have to add the explanation of it being only a culture course -- thus the curse of explanation.
Perhaps you begin to see the far-reaching implications of the curse. If you come from a post-modern family situation like I do, then you have to deal with the curse all the time. When people ask you if you have any siblings, it can be very interesting if no simple answer is available to you. I can't tell people that I have two half-sisters and one former stepbrother without inviting some kind of inquiry into my personal history. Sometimes I like to tell people that the two half sisters can be combined into one whole sister. And the former stepbrother -- well, he just about sounds dead, doesn't he? Formerly of this earth? It would be even worse if I said "I used to have a stepbrother." For that, I might very well add "And then I killed him with a meat tenderizer." And if I say that I have an ex-stepbrother, it sounds as though I went through a nasty divorce with the poor guy. Thus the curse of explanation compels me to drag out the whole story of the used-to-be stepfather with a penchant for abuse and Coke-and-vodka. That's something you don't want to hear.
A more accessible and relevant area of the curse for us college students is, of course, the major. All you and I want to do is get through our Dartmouth career relatively unscathed, picking up some course of study along the way. But people have to ask: "Whatyoumajoringin?" And if you're like me, caught between the Scylla and Charibdes of major selections, you have no Handy Answer to whip out. You can't say something simple like "History" or "Andalusian Goat-mating." You have to say, "Well, see, I'd like to major in Creative Writing, which is a special division of the English major available only to certain airborne paramilitary operatives, but as of right now at the time I have to file my major card, I am ineligible for the Creative Writing major because I have not yet completed English 81, 82, 83, or a suitable substitution in the form of Andalusian pancakes, therefore for now I have to be a regular plain old whitebread garden-variety English major, dime a dozen, use me 'cuz I'm cheap." (The "use me 'cuz I'm cheap" is optional, of course.)
Now that you know of the curse, perhaps you will proceed through conversations with more caution, lest you provoke it. Think twice before you ask a seemingly simple question like "What are you taking this term?" or "What's that third eye doing on your forehead?" Maybe now you will notice the irritation of those of us with no simple answers.
