#home #frickincold #rain
Botched half-boiled deformities but it doesn’t matter they’re still going into my tummy. #eggs #whatareexams #savemysoul
so it’s the day before the start of my finals, and i get this idea to look back on the academic year so far, and think about where school life has brought me so far. inspiring, albeit vaguely unintelligent, and i’m ruefully scratching my head at this decision to start this post. it’s 1250 and i sit at my computer, barely coherent, nursing a too-small cup of coffee, a nasty ache in my neck-back-shoulder and a heavy, heavy head.
English wasn’t my first choice in NTU, WKW was (ask every other lit kid and they’re going to reply you with the same answer; i jokingly(?) claim that lit is where WKW rejects come to live out their remaining days). it’s really not that i hate lit, it’s more a case of pragmatism and whether or not i’m going to need to beg for food scraps in the forseeable future. jokes aside, lit really has been a very welcoming place to start a university education at, and (personally, this is crucial) i feel like i’m genuinely engaging with the things i study, for the first time i can recall.
being in lit offers us the opportunity to delve into a branch of art that has, more often than not, played a part in shaping societal advancements and defining cultures in different ways. some of these writers are really damn smart (also i occasionally wonder to myself: did they REALLY think of all this shit when they were writing all of this down? or were they just high as fuck, seeing unicorns and shit, and we’re just superimposing and being excessively analytical?). nah i think some people just have gifts that others don’t; Emerson claims a poet is ‘the man without impediment, who sees and handles that which others dream of, traverses the whole scale of experience, and is representative of man’ (do i need al MLA citation for this? if your answer is yes, please go away). pretty meaningful stuff, especially when one begins to understand that lit (the stuff from centuries long gone, all the way up to what we have now) has an impact on real life as we know it. (sounds damn cliche, i am aware of that, but the truth is cliche deal w it)
i particularly enjoyed (in no particular order) Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior, her cultural diaspora is something i feel fairly in touch with ( i mean, we’re in an Asian society and i have all but forsaken my Chinese-speaking abilities etc); transcendentalism, for its ability to provoke thoughts about self-improvement (the 19th-Century self-help genre); the Tempest, because my favourite genre is fantasy (so sue me) etc etc etc this could go on forever-
i hate Coetzee, and about 95% of medieval texts we cover in Survey of Literature, but that’s not going to stop me from diving into THAT wreck and understanding the things that possessed these writers and made them churn out such…unique works.
religious tolerance / for being so damn welcoming and making me feel at home in a different place; for Phineas and Ferb, Adventure Time, Korra; for theological debates; for 3am suppers; for dance especially.
misery loves company / for being so different and yet so similar; for artease and starbucks and assorted junk foods; for collective submission-panic sessions over w/a; for theme wednesdays that mostly succeed; for the adventures of Mr Tamago and friends; for (dare i say it) golden sperm (i said it)
elites of e-lit / for being damn cool la basically, the other thing we share in common cannot be put into words for fear of unseen repercussions; special note to nizam and sober j, i don’t know how we survived through 1030 tutorials with shit-attitude tutors (props to us)
note: this post is not done. study break (no i’m literally breaking from this so i can study)