pffftt...

Vulnerability strikes past midnight, I have noticed.
Sometimes the internet refuses to work and I am compelled to stay up late and indulge in very cryptic Microsoft painting, and listen to 'Rocky Mountain High' a zillion times over which is all fine just that they conjure the most surreal dreams after I snooze off. But then, I aint complaining.
I have very tough times ahead of me. More than half the world population refuses to believe that I can make a fulfilling career out of studying Comparative Literature for my Masters. I find that particularly disconcerting mostly because I rather like the subject (the little that I know about it, that is) and the entire circumstance of being frowned upon and shown subtle disapproval is turning out to be very vexing. I also hate the fact that all this is working me up and egging me to think over my MA plans.
The entrance test questionnaire had absolutely bowled me over and for once I felt I was doing the right thing in life. It made me feel I was finally doing what I should have done three years back. This whole thing had been a very impulsive affair and you could say I went with my instincts and landed up in a department I least expected to see myself in even a few months back. My gut feeling tells me I can very well go kick a few smart asses if my going gets good.
If not, oh well I better not think.
You see, in the end, what should ideally matter is how utterly overwhelming the sense of accomplishment is. In my case, almost as had been apprehended, my sentiments on graduating weren’t exactly ecstatic. I did decently for myself, you can be sure. But somehow the sense of ‘accomplishment’, as it were, eluded me. The graduation has left me hollow with very little to fill myself with. The papers may proclaim me to be an honours graduate, but frankly, I know what to believe. The education wasn’t adequately enriching or maybe I was worst suited to be a historian. Ironically that seems to be the case with a lot of people around me. Funnier still, they seem to be unperturbed and wish to go on like this for another two years. Whereas I have been relentlessly plagued by bouts of conscience for about a year and a half now and refuse to keep mugging cartloads of unintelligible Xerox simply for the sake of earning another degree, anymore.
I would rather stay put with a discipline that arouses in me a sense of fulfillment once its over and done with. I would opt for this over anything else in the world even if that secures my life as a compulsive bekaar!