This is how I feel about Virginia Woolf and modernism in general. I feel like literature died with WWI. I hate it.
So DORK MOMENT. Currently, I am DYING to get back to the library, not for my research paper, oh no. I want to go back to the Alice in Wonderland/Sherlock Holmes section, check out books relevant to my interests and take my own sweet time reading them this summer. I will not miss being a student, I think, when it comes to papers and homework. I will however miss having access to such a full library.
Speaking of Sherlock Holmes, I also hate how Arthur Conan Doyle hates Sherlock Holmes and tried to kill him like, 6 billion times, failed, gave a big hissy fit and continued writing, even though you can tell he despises doing so. He snarks his audience constantly throughout the last two Sherlock Holmes books. I feel insulted and want to snark him back.
Yeah, regrettably, that's the best I can come up with at the moment. But seriously, how can you hate Sherlock Holmes?!? Or WATSON. COME ON, ACD. COME ON.
I am ridiculously tired, even though I've finally started sleeping again. Must be catching up. That and finals. I can blame anything on finals.
Only a week and a half, only a week and a half, only a week and a half...
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