Missed the bus, again.
Anonymous blogs on the intrawebs are a great resource for finding all things relevant 5 months too late. I was advised in one of these aforementioned retreats for the apparent crème de la crème of (presumably American) political theorists that I should seriously consider an MPhil at Cambridge, given my interests in political theory and the history of political thought.
England's always appealed to me in ways that a humble, pie-eating, red-nosed Scouser would surely discern, but not so much for academics, even though I've always known the country to be doing some of the finest work in my fields of interest. I guess I'll go my-head-corkscrewed-up-my-butt insane if I were to land in England, watch football on the telly, and never have the comfort of looking forward to visiting Anfield because I'd be in a line of work already established to be leading to unemployment.
Anywho, I Googled for Cambridge, such being my temerity, and found the Faculty of History offering an MPhil in Political Thought and Intellectual History. The moment I read those words to myself, my ears pricked up (as if they could any further), and I couldn't deny the slight excitement in my search for more information. And then it came - the ritual kick up the back side. Could I still apply to the program? Yes. Was I still eligible for funding? No, of course not. Do I have money to finance the course, should I get admitted? Um, does the Pope shit in the woods?
So, yay, I've found another back-up plan for the future, if I were to strike out again next year. But since I'm applying across the board, big and small, I wonder if there's a point in exercising this option any longer. You see, sometimes it's better to have missed a bus, than to have boarded a 13C.
England's always appealed to me in ways that a humble, pie-eating, red-nosed Scouser would surely discern, but not so much for academics, even though I've always known the country to be doing some of the finest work in my fields of interest. I guess I'll go my-head-corkscrewed-up-my-butt insane if I were to land in England, watch football on the telly, and never have the comfort of looking forward to visiting Anfield because I'd be in a line of work already established to be leading to unemployment.
Anywho, I Googled for Cambridge, such being my temerity, and found the Faculty of History offering an MPhil in Political Thought and Intellectual History. The moment I read those words to myself, my ears pricked up (as if they could any further), and I couldn't deny the slight excitement in my search for more information. And then it came - the ritual kick up the back side. Could I still apply to the program? Yes. Was I still eligible for funding? No, of course not. Do I have money to finance the course, should I get admitted? Um, does the Pope shit in the woods?
So, yay, I've found another back-up plan for the future, if I were to strike out again next year. But since I'm applying across the board, big and small, I wonder if there's a point in exercising this option any longer. You see, sometimes it's better to have missed a bus, than to have boarded a 13C.
Labels: MPhil
posted by Anurag at
10:41 AM
2 Comments:
Feel free to feel offended - but I cannot help saying that the writing that comes out of your desperation is THOROUGHLY ENJOYABLE!!! It's often hard to find such a good read...haha hoho...hilarious! Moreover, the effects of your apostrophes were made indescribably intense and acrid in my mind by Eric Satie's outrageously original and ingenious music which hammered on in the back as I was reading the blog. It's got the same 'my-head-corkscrewed-up-my-butt' kind of feel that you are so familiar with!
I say you take up writing as a means to fund your cherished existial RTU ramblings (for which you will, evidently, find constant source of inspiration from your life)! I guarantee you, it'll sell. Bangalis will go berserk over this stuff!
No offence taken. I understand that the feeling of one's ribs being tickled by the underside of a double-edged comb is a perennial side-effect of reading this blog, but the matters of discussion are **EXTREMELY SERIOUS** /runs
I wonder if Satie's typewrit-ic (if that could be a word) procrastination could be imagined in sync with the motion of typing out the words in the post. That would corkscrew many heads up many butts.
As for selling this stuff to Bangalis, you give them too much credit. Mostly, they have horrible credit. Ask the banks.
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