Musings on the wonders that are English literature and the medical profession - indirectly.
Today is probably the first night in weeks I haven't been chained to my desk. And the last for a little while longer. Only three exams to go and senioritis is kicking in!

Anyway my one gratuitous, guilt-free night out (after an afternoon of cramming my brain with Bio, hence the guilt-free) was spent on experiencing Margaret Atson's Wit. I not so much enjoyed it as quivered, barely constrained to my seat, alternately with mirth and despair. There was not a dry eye in the audience, it was absolutely brilliant. Inspirational yet devastating. Words, words, words. Ah, damn, now I feel compelled to read some Donne. Though where does Vivian get off insulting Shakespeare, I ask you? Blasphemy, tsk tsk. I highly, highly reccomend it for any of you drama nerds out there within driving distance of BSS (yes you know who you are) and sadly tomorrow is the last night but well - I just felt compared to share, just - guh. 

Thatisall. Back to the glycoproteins and so forth.