"Come and save me boy... all i need is a Superhero"
So, I was in the main library of UCL yesterday, which oh by the by, as the homepage of UCL website was proudly proclaiming, is now the 7th best uni IN DA WORLD. Man, I just sat through the CM lecture, and tbh, 7th best? Hmmm. And oh yeah, and my DREAM SCHOOL NORTHWESTERN IS like, worse than NUS. Zomg.
Anyway, as I was saying, I was looking for a book for my Gendered Geograhies course yeah, and I had to go into History section, which is on the second floor above the Flaxman Gallery, and which let me assure one and all, I swear, is haunted. You know that hollow feeling you get when facing a very empty corridor and it's a bit dusty? Pretty much, freaked me out. And previously I was in the Latin American History section, which is this huge room with shelves about 30cm from each other AND THERE IS NO BODY. I was honestly a bit freaked out.
But English ghosts isn't the subject of my little discourse here. More importantly, I was in the English section to borrow a book on Black literature in the 18th Century (Srsly, what am i studying rright?) and I walked past this shelf which was filled to brim, chockful, stuffed with the works of Byron. Apart from the ubiquity of the word BYRON BYRON BYRON starting at me, I was disconcerted by the fact that I know absolutely zilch about Lord Byron, except that he wrote Don Juan maybe (?), a bunch of poems and was possibly gay (?). Hence I was a trifle saddened by my sorely lacking knowledge about Lord Byron and was quite overcomed by the fact that were so many books (just in the UCL library) that I would never ever be acquainted with, and let me say now I am a CHRONIC lib book hoarder. So Many books that I will never come to know, and not just books on specific subjects like maybe Pharmacology, The interaction of ribozomes in the dna structure with the A-side enzyme blah (you get what I mean), but just generally famous books like the original untranslated Dante's Divine Comedy or Horace's Odes or Cicero's writings or something like that. Superannuated and dusty volumes that I always wanted to get my hands on but could never find it proper in Singapore; existing in the UCL library, but here's I, missing out on them. Dang.
Beside myself with grief, I plugged in my itouch, put on Shoshana's Superhero and ambled away, leaving a trail of mediocrity.