David Copperfield isn’t as difficult a read as I thought it would be. I always imagined (imagined because I never actually tested it out) that Dickens would be a hard read but I’m finding myself enjoy it and there are bits which make me laugh out loud. I’m delightfully surprised.
Damn, meant to finish David Copperfield this weekend and am not even close.
For the briefest time, I was actually on top of my readings this term… in the first week. But I think I’m on the downward slope now. It was nice while it lasted.
Mum asked me today what I hoped to do with my Graduate Diploma in English Literature. I said I didn’t have a tangible output or outcome in mind, that I’m just studying English for the love of it.
I hate that neoliberalism has reduced our lives to ins and outs. Why can’t we just do things for the reason that they feed our soul, and not for a direct output? I mean, in general, I’m fine with the fact that my studying English is “aimless” (in that I’m not changing careers/ wanting to become an English teacher/ getting into the book industry) but every now and then, when I’m having one of my existential crises, I do wonder if I’m just squandering my very privileged life.