Friday, July 22, 2011

Fallen Angels, Take My Hand

I am not a very good philosopher, in the same way that I am not a very good bike racer. I fuck about, wait for others to make the first move and ultimately, totally miss the mark.

The past six months, while intellectually stimulating, have been a case of my progressively realising that i don't have what it takes to thrive in the academic world. In some ways, this is a relief. There still remains, though, that residual part of me that thinks the whole thing is a bit of a shame and that, frankly, i shouldn't have ridden my bike and listened to metal so much.

My honours year is halfway through and, other than a debilitating caffeine addiction, i haven't gained much in terms of 'ideas about what i should do after uni'. I quite like the 'fuck about and see where you end up' school of thought. There is, however, a great deal to be said for the 'make some plans now you fucking bludger' method too.

Either way, something has to give.

I should also apologise, given that we are all here, about my blog's steady transition from relatively humorous thing, to terrible personal introspection thing. Fuck knows, its awful enough having to face your own failings, let alone having to read about some other muppet's who cut his hair, and lost his sense of identity.

Speaking of strange, here's Portal.

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