It’s week six of the semester, and I am beginning to dread Fridays a bit less each time. Tomorrow I have six classes, including but not limited to a quantum mechanics exam. If it were up to me, lunch would be mandatory for all human beings, but as it stands I get no such luxuries with classes from 9 AM - 3 PM. It now seems that there’s some small serenity in academic servitude; I have no dispute as to what it is that I’m going to do tomorrow: I will learn until the veins in my head are throbbing, then I will learn some more, and ultimately pass out in my room of exhaustion.
When a man is involved in this sort of deterministic affair, there is absolutely no illusion as to anything. There’s a certainty in it, something peculiar, something not dissimilar to the death of the soul that attracts one the way heroin attracts the weak of heart. I look forward to the onslaught. After all, I’m accepted somewhere; within the year, I will be a practicing nuclear theorist, and things are looking up. Might as well enjoy the drudgeries of getting there while I still can.
