With them it’s easy – all you need to do is wave your hand in the necessary direction. Not all of them, because some of them can tell Big Ben from Fish’n’Chips. No one works on Bank Holidays, apart from bankers from the City of London, because global financial markets do not care about cute little British idiosyncrasies. I am used to the fact that national non-working days are called Bank Holidays. ![]() The man who will find a sure way to predict exact duration of each phase will have a column erected for him that will dwarf the Nelson’s and have his birthday made into a Bank Holiday. Sunglasses are for Type 1 and Umbrella for the second. ![]() Come on, how hard can that be – London only has 2 types of weather: “It’s going to rain” and “It’s raining”. I am fed up with always carrying my sunglasses and an umbrella with me, because even BBC can not tell what weather am I to expect.But why, why, why, why does the snow stop London Underground? I understand that famous London buses would be wrapped around famous London lamp posts at the first corner. Why when 2 inches of snow falls on the streets everything stops? I am a reasonable person and I can understand why trains do not run (those little signalling thingies froze under the snow).Life sucks for me – reasonably pretty, reasonably young and reasonably successful girl. But who said that life is good in London? Life in London is good for Roman Abramovich with his young paramour, 6 kids, pocket football team, a team of trained professionals who run his life and a chauffeur-driven Bentley. Save practicality for grad school.Someone said that if you are fed up with London, you are fed up with life. But as far as I'm concerned, study what you love as an undergrad. You'll invariably hear something like, "So what do you plan to do with all that a priori knowledge once you get out into the 'real world'?" Touche. So if you're one of those freshies on the verge of declaring a philosophy major, just beware: a lot of people (read: "grownups") will lament it for being an impractical choice. Apparently, this generation of college students wants to examine life and ethics in a way political science and microbiology classes don't allow. According to a piece in The New York Times this week, philosophy majors are on the rise. Well, it seems I'm not alone in my need to wax philosophical. It's no coincidence that around this time I also wore a lot of black, carried around a skull, and became an anti-social pessimist - my version of the trendy and all-consuming Existential Crisis. I've never felt so alive as I did when we studied nihilism - there's a surprising freedom that comes from knowing life has no meaning or purpose.* It can be extremely disconcerting as well. (Go, Bears!) You get to talk about cool things like transcendental phenomenology and the eternal recurrence and ontological proofs for the existence of God - what's not to love? I can remember taking a class on Schopenhauer and Nietzsche my senior year. ![]() Please forgive.) Jokes aside, I did fall in love with philosophy at Berkeley. Wait, was that me, or Woody? (Haha, lame. I looked within the soul of the boy sitting next to me. Unfortunately, I was thrown out my freshman year for cheating on my metaphysics final. I almost majored in philosophy in college.
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