In a pipe-dream, it-has-nothing-to-do-with-my-chosen-career-path, I-would-never-survive-it sort of way?

DO FUCKING WANT.

Of course, this is true of approximately 75% of all Arts & Humanities postgrad degrees everywhere - in all particulars. Sometimes, I think about what it might be like to be one of those types who loves stuff and learning new things and trivia and knowledge (which I am), AND academia (which I am NOT, OH GOD KILL ME NOW). And it's not even that I hate academia as a concept. In fact, I adore academia as a concept. But I am literally the least-suited person for it in the history of ever; even the idea of having to do things like PUBLISH and TEACH and NETWORK kind of makes me want to throw myself in front of a bus - not to mention the homicidal urges I get whilst reading most A&H academic writing.¹ And temperamentally, I am essentially like that 'Boom De Yada' song. You know. Yeah. That one. It's not that I lose interest in things, per se. It's just that everything is interesting. Everything.


¹I say this as though I don't have a shameful addiction to footnotes and didn't succumb fifty million times to making unsubtly-veiled bitchy comments about the work of certain academics in my undergrad thesis. Shoujo Hypocrite Sophie, GO!!!

In other, exponentially shallower news, I just braved the depths of the living-room cupboards and rediscovered my copy of Sleepy Hollow. Newsflash: Tim Burton remains hilarious and weird and with an attractive sense of aesthetics; Johnny Depp simply remains hilarious and weird and attractive. Relatedly, in more obscure and circuitous ways than one, I want to go see Inkheart again. Bad Sophie. Bad. You can buy shirtless Paul Bettany when he comes out on DVD.