Currently listening to:One More Weekend by The Academy Is
We are survivors.
A good 10 hours from 11pm to 9am this morning cramming over three hundred years of british literature, and coming out alive on the other end. Of course, this involved about 4 cups of coffee (nescafe, starbucks, pokka, pokka) and a whole lot of insanity (LETS ABANDON THIS AND JUST GET MARRIED PLEASE SO WE DONT HAVE TO STUDY NO MORE) but hey, whatever it takes right? Suffering into truth. Thats a lesson from Boethius right there.
So yes, besides sexylexy wurrrrrkin her ass all over that car up there, another thing that’s been making its rounds around the world wide web is this video on hot girls and their problems, to which all i want to say is, if you don’t have a classic blank and white mv with a sexy french voice narrating your life like this cat i am not impressed
Going to be spending the rest of my night celebrating the end of my (philosophy in) classical literature and survey of literature (aka greatest lit hits of all time) with a rockkkkkkin party, consisting me, my blanket, and a book. My heart cannot take this excitement. Goodness! What a fast track life we youths live.
On the same literary note, after being asked for prose recommendations last night via twitter, here are three pieces that stood out from my readings last night concerned with females:
1. Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Women
2. Florence Nightingale’s Cassandra (paisei i couldnt find a legit link but you can try project Muse-ing it if you have an account.)
3. Robert Browning’s The Last Duchess.
Regarding the last one, i am telling you, this couple has Issues. Robert Browning and his wife, Elizabeth Barratt Browning who wrote Aurora Leigh, have serious Issues. You know I’m serious because i capitalized the I and when someone capitalizes the first letter of any word you know Shit Is Getting Real. See what i mean.
Basically in the last duchess, this insane duke got pissed off with his first wife for being too easily pleased and smiling at everyone so the psycho had her killed and painted into a portrait so only he could see her smiling. The entire poem is narrated from the duke to his new wife and that was when i just went, ok, you know what, screw this shit. This is creepy as hell and its 4am. Girls the moral of the story here is that if any guy tries to show you a smiling photo of his ex girlfriend on the first date you drop whatever you’re eating and get the hell out of there.
This was a pretty informative post, wasn’t it.
Oh, and Andrea and I have put together our years of literary experience to formulate a very cogent thanks to you for all the support we’ve been shown over the past three days!