yyland

November 8, 2010

It’s only just hit me that I’ve just gave my last presentation today. Like, ever. Certainly my last Lit presentation. And it’s really—well, part of me wants to say it’s freaking TRAGIC is what it is!, and another part is saying, well I’m exhausted, but it was a pretty solid presentation, with a bunch of people I like, so, that’s good, and as always the accurate answer is somewhere in the middle of the two. All I can say for certain is that it’s put me in a quieter, more introspective mood. I feel like writing—not essays, but ‘prose’. Byatt’s writing is absolutely breathtakingly awesome and awe-inspiring, and that Postscript to Possession is really beautiful.

I haven’t finished the book, and I usually try not to cheat, but even though Possession is tremendously readable and brilliant to boot, I just didn’t make time to finish it. But that Postscript is really just beautiful in a quiet, melancholy way. Which I suppose says something about me and my issues, but it’s beautifully written nonetheless. It’s just such a brilliant book, I’m going to resolve to finish it.

The lasts are piling up—last history essay (which I literally forgot all about until 4pm the day it was due—today.), last Lit presentation. Pretty soon it’ll be last Lit test, and last Lit essays. Then last History exam, and last Lit exam.

(Shit, y’all! It’s freaking tragic!)

Overinflated gestures towards, and comical misuse of ‘tragedy’ aside, I really just feel lost at the thought of leaving my cosily-furnished ivory tower. There is no plan, there is no PLAN. I feel panicked just thinking about it. I don’t necessarily intend to follow the plan, I would just like to know what the damn plan is supposed to be. What my plan is supposed to be, because I’ll be damned if I end up pathetic and miserable, shuffling onto an MRT at 8 every weekday morning and again at 7 in the evening.

What’s the plan, damnit?