Watching The Godfather on videotape

There comes a time halfway through any halfway decent liberal arts major's college career when she no longer has any idea what she believes. She flies violently through air polluted by conflicting ideas and theories, never stopping at one system of thought long enough to feel at home. All those books, all that talk, and, oh, the self-reflection. Am I an existentialist? A Taoist? A transcendentalist? A modernist, a postmodernist? A relativist-positivist-historicist-dadaist-deconstructionist? Was I Appollonian? Was I Dionysian (or just drunk)? Which was right and which was wrong, impressionism or expressionism? And while we're at it, is there such a thing as right or wrong?

Until I figured out that the flight between questions is itself a workable system, I craved answers, rules. A code. So by my junior year, I was spending part of every week, sometimes every day, watching The Godfather on videotape.

Sarah Vowell - Take The Cannoli, 44 (of Take the Cannoli)