I know I haven’t been updating this blog because I’m too lazy. Years 2 and 3 have been an exciting flurry of business (both work and busy-ness). I constantly spew bite-sized thoughts that stream into my mind on Instagram Stories anyway, and I am remarkably easily bored and excitable, so longer, more considered pieces on Blogger aren’t sustainable. I digress. Many exciting life updates! I’m now officially done with my undergraduate PPE programme at King’s College London. I loved every bit of it: the depth, rigour and intellectual intensity of the course, the international student community, the bustling city of London and all the travel opportunities around Europe. Words can’t do justice to the profundity of the experience. In typical Quincean fashion, I milked everything I could out of the three years: went to Cumberland Lodge (for free) as a photographer with the Philosophy Department in Years 1 and 3, clinched the Principal’s Global Leadership Award (PGLA) in my second year (spending
"I understand you. But why, you? Why?" Why me? Heck, even I don't know why I am like this. I have Gatsby's ambition (which I consciously repress lest it become Macbeth's ambition), Hamlet's struggles, and Curren's powerlessness. I am an individualist anarchist who wants people to be happy — no, other people deserve to be happy and I do not — and therefore must accept the imposition of ethics, law and social norms, for without which other people cannot be as happy. Why, why me? Why am I so different — in such a circumstance where my flourishing will cause invisible man-made institutions to implode upon me? Glass ceiling after glass ceiling: imagine what is to come! Why, why me? Why am I so impotent — can't master Literature after mugging for 1.5 years? Prone to emotional vulnerabilities and panic attacks that cause my grades, my relationships, my actions to tumble upon any infinitesimal external stimulus? Why do I carry these burdens on my