be me, second year HSPS at Trinity
alarm goes off at 9am
ignore it, obviously
roll out of bed at 11:23
only have one contact hour today and it's at 4pm
NatScis already six hours into their labs, seething
throw on the cashmere scarf my mother got me from Brora
vintage Carhartt, tote bag from a bookshop in Lisbon
cycle to Hot Numbers because Harvey's was getting basic
order a flat white and a babka
£8.40, don't check my bank account, never check my bank account
pull out Judith Butler's Gender Trouble
haven't read past page 30 in two terms
hold it at a 45 degree angle so people can see the cover
nod thoughtfully at nothing
girl across the café is reading Foucault
we make eye contact
unspoken understanding passes between us
somewhere a Mathmo is crying into a problem sheet
finish my coffee, time to "work"
cycle to Sidgwick
sashay past the Engineering building
NatSci ex is leaving the chemistry labs, eyes hollow
I am wearing linen trousers in November
I am winning
arrive at the Seeley library
open laptop, open essay document
title: "Spectres of the Subaltern: Hauntology and the Postcolonial Condition"
3,000 words due tomorrow
have written 247
open Twitter instead
some Natsci on camfess.org.uk complaining humanities students "don't do real work"
laugh out loud, librarian shushes me
my supervisor is a Fellow of the British Academy and once had dinner with Derrida
what does your supervisor do, brother? simulate proteins?
4pm rolls around, supervision time
my supervision partner went to Westminster, his dad is in the Lords
we discuss whether the nation-state is a useful analytical category
supervisor says my essay shows "genuine promise"
have not done the reading
have never done the reading
got a 2:1 last term on vibes alone
supervision ends, time for the Union
tonight's debate: "This House Regrets the Enlightenment"
I am speaking against, obviously, contrarianism is my brand
pre-drinks at the Pickerel
port and stilton in the Union bar
some Land Economist is braying about his gap yah in Patagonia
I deliver a six-minute speech with no notes about Kant and colonialism
win the debate
floor-speech guy proposes marriage to me afterwards
politely decline, he's at Girton
back to college for formal
three courses, candlelight, latin grace I pretend to understand
get pennied by a Catz rower
down the wine like a champion
stagger to the bar, run into my DoS
she asks how the essay is going
"oh you know, wrestling with the dialectic"
she nods sagely
I have written 247 words
2am, Van of Life, cheesy chips
NatSci friend is there, also crying
he has a 9am lab
I have nothing until Thursday
he asks what I'm doing after Cambridge
tell him I got a spring week offer at McKinsey
watch the light leave his eyes
"but you literally study queer hauntings in Victorian poetry"
yes
"how?"
starting salary £55k
he's going to do a PhD in quantum something for £18k a year
finish my chips
cycle home, no lights, no helmet, slightly drunk
tomorrow I will wake up at 11 and do it all again
and I am thriving