(Little relation to part 1.) These are insouciant times. It turns out that my earlier apprehensions about not going to grad school were unfounded, since I have been admitted to both schools to which I applied. My "list", as I mentioned before, was decidedly undernourished, so there was definitely cause for concern, now that I think about it. But that doesn't matter anymore. All I have to do now is to put together certain documents, medical reports, and transcripts, and then wait to graduate with not a care in the world. Isn't that wonderful? The last time I was in a position like this was after high school. Back then, as I was telling an esteemed comrade, the sense of being an adult was a lot more pronounced than it is now, and not necessarily for the better. The explanations we came up with to this curious phenomenon ranged from my theory of "lateral inhibition", according to which our newfound independence exaggerated our sense of adulthood, to the notion that before now, we never truly appreciated how young we were intellectually.
I have filled my blog with a massive amount of deleted fan fiction (which will hopefully serve to demonstrate to those who doubt what I say on my FFn profile that I was in fact rather a prolific writer before the Apocalypse), which I have yet to edit. I will definitely get around to editing it, though, since a lot of it is cringeworthy. And, I might add, there is a lot of deleted fan fiction that I chose not to upload, because it is simply too foul ever to expose to human eyes again. It is, to be sure, unmitigated shit. I shudder to think that I could have written things like that, but my motives are easily grasped. I was a whore for reviews back in those days, and would write pretty much anything that was sure to attract reviews - usually from squealing fangirls. I leave the rest to the imagination.
We are reading Pride and Prejudice in my English class, and I have to say that I like it a lot less than I did on my first reading, now that I have to analyze it in depth. I'm not sure I would go so far as to say that Pride and Prejudice was the Twilight of its day, but I am quite close to being of one mind with Mr. Twain. I mean, it's a decently written book, witty in all the right parts; but I can't help not caring for any of these characters and their trifling concerns. Sure, it's a portrait of the English middle class in the eighteenth century, but what is it other than that? Even Mr. Darcy, who I thought was a respectable and even an admirable gentleman, turns out to be weak. I have been compared to Mr. Darcy in the past, and I have taken that as a compliment; but Mr. Darcy's weaknesses are unforgivable. The only remotely likeable character is, of course, Elizabeth; but she's likeable in the sort of way that you would find someone likeable of whose life you would nevertheless prefer to remain blissfully in the dark.
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