4 Days: In Which I Talk about Reading All Day

Four days left in my undergraduate career, guys.

What a beautiful tower that is!

Yesterday, I spoke for a while about the past, about my relationship with UT, about how I was doing a lot of thinking... I didn't spend much of today being quite as pensive. If my life were a movie, today would warrant nothing more than an amusing montage of me changing my position on my couch every hour or so while I read.


Two of my three classes were cancelled today. Well, they weren't "cancelled" - my professors announced that we weren't meeting formally and that today was a reading day. This is professor-speak for 'cancelled', of course, but apparently straight up canceling class is frowned upon these days. Instead, they encourage us to take the time to meet with them, the TAs, or study for our exams later this week.

I took the opportunity of uninterrupted freedom to finish reading The Collector (John Fowles) and After Leaving Mr MacKenzie (Jean Rhys) for my 20th Century British Novel class. One was creepy, one was rather depressing; both were quick reads. However, as fast a reader as I am, wading through 400 or so pages still takes a while. It was something like 6 or 7 hours, probably. (I think I read between 50-60 pages an hour these days.)

I worried a little over the weekend about finishing these books, but obviously not too worried, otherwise I guess I might have done something about it. I knew that it would require some time and not too much energy to read them, but I was so preoccupied over the weekend about working on my Victorian Lit paper.

Whenever I am stressed and worried, I think about Pride and Prejudice. No surprises, it has been occupying my mind the last few days. To me, the book represents everything that I love about being a book-lover: a reliable, well-told story that I can go back to anytime I want to, with wonderful characters and an ending that I can sigh over. All afternoon, while I was reading about kidnapping murderers (Collector) and borderline alcoholism (MacKenzie) I was thinking of Lizzie Bennet and Mr Darcy. I was thinking of balls at Netherfield, grand country homes, music, and how much I would love to sink into Austen's prose... thinking that I'd even settle for the movie, if only I could be swept away for just a little while.

It is fanciful, easy, to drift off in thought into the quaint English countryside, and all afternoon I resolutely stared at the books I was supposed to read. "For the last time, school has to come first," I have been telling myself.

If yesterday was reminiscent, today is wistful. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?