
TAB TAROT: A 1000-Word Reading Foretelling Your Resurrection.
By: The Spirits, who have now decided to throw in a little hope (against their better judgement).
Welcome back, brave soul.
Last time, the spirits dragged you through the academic mud, tore your diss to shreds, and laughed as you Googled “how late is too late to start a degree transfer.” But this week, the winds have shifted. And against all odds… the cards are feeling generous.
You heard us. This time, the reading is not about downfall.
It’s about your comeback.
Let us begin.
THE READING: Three Cards, One Glow-Up
As always, we draw three cards: The Past, The Present, and The Future. The deck crackles with newfound energy.
Prepare yourself.
CARD I: The Four of Burnout (Upright) – The Past
Ah yes. The Four of Burnout. In this card, a student lies in bed, surrounded by highlighters, unread monographs, and the echo of early morning hysterics in the UL toilets.
Upright, this card does not mock. It honours. This is your academic wartime story.
- You have survived week 5 mood swings and week 7 identity crises before!
- You’ve faced essays that made no sense and deadlines that were not met!
- You’ve written supervision prep, hungover, underslept, and in someone else’s bed!
This card tells us you’ve been through it. And yet—you are still here. That is no small thing. The Four of Burnout salutes your stubborn, sleep-deprived resilience. You’ve earned your scars.
You are not broken. You are just a student pretending this is “the easy week.” (It never is.)
CARD II: The Sun – The Present
No, we didn’t rig this. Yes, you really pulled The Sun.
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The most radiant card in the deck. A glorious symbol of clarity, joy, and finally understanding what your essay question actually means. The student in this card is dancing in a field of footnotes. A small horse carries their bibliography. The sky is clear. The vibe is immaculate.
This is your moment of awakening. Perhaps not academically. But emotionally? Spiritually? Vaguely vibes-wise? Yes.
Right now:
- You’ve started reading articles instead of just screenshotting them for “later.”
- You made a point and your supervisor nodded. Respectfully. Maybe even impressed.
- You attended a lecture and didn’t immediately spiral into an existential crisis.
The Sun is about momentum. It says: keep going. Even if you don’t feel like the main character right now, you’re at least a compelling subplot. And that’s enough.
CARD III: The Ace of Bibliography – The Future
A miracle. The Ace of Bibliography glows with the light of academic promise.
This card shows a student at peace, clutching a freshly finished essay. The references are formatted. The argument is solid. The conclusion exists. Angels weep. A fellow smiles. Somewhere, MyBib crashes in respectful awe.
This card predicts:
- You will finish something you didn’t think you could.
- Your brain will, briefly, work exactly the way it’s supposed to.
- Your essay might even be… good?
You’re not heading for a breakdown—you’re heading for a breakthrough. The Ace of Bibliography doesn’t promise perfection. It promises progress. And sometimes that’s the real magic.
BONUS CARD: Strength – (It Was Inside You All Along)
Leaping out of the deck like a caffeinated squirrel is Strength. A student gently restrains a feral supervision report. Behind them, the Cam glistens with hope.
This card reminds you: You’ve already done harder things than this.
Strength tells you: This isn’t the end. It’s the middle. And middles are meant to be messy.
SPIRITUALLY SOUND SURVIVAL TIPS
Even in a positive week, the spirits advise caution. Here’s how to ride the academic high without spontaneously combusting:
- Build a shrine to the one friend who pretends to understand the point of your degree. Light a tealight, leave offerings (coffee and compliments), and tell them they’re doing amazing.
- Make a study playlist. Beyoncé followed by Gregorian chant is not only valid—it’s divine.
- Romanticise your essay crisis. Pretend you’re in a Wes Anderson film. Pick an aesthetic. Wear something ‘sidge girlie’. Type dramatically.
FINAL BLESSINGS FROM THE SPIRITS
This week, we don’t curse. We bless. Here are your affirmations, handpicked by The Tab Tarot and sealed with the pain of your past self.
First-Year Englings – “You will finish Shakespeare. Eventually. And you’ll actually enjoy it.”
Second-Year Natscis – “You are not your supervision marks. You are a complex chemical miracle with lab goggles.”
HSPS students – “Your essay isn’t too vague. It’s theoretically diffuse.”
Theologians – “God sees your citations. And He is pleased.”
CompScis – “The code will compile. Your sanity may not. But that’s fine.”
ASNaCs – “You speak dead languages. You are literally magic.”
Medics – “Yes, you are the chosen ones. No, you don’t need to tell us again.”
Queens’ – “Your DoS will say ‘interesting approach.’ They mean confused. But the spirits say run with it anyway.”
Clare – “You will be haunted by the ghost of a 19th-century essayist who whispers, ‘Add more nuance.’ You will not, you’ll still get a 2:1.”
Corpus Christi – “You will get lost in your own argument and end up writing waffle by mistake. It’s fine- No one’s sure what Corpus students do anyway.”
Girton – “You will walk 40 minutes to hand in an essay and forget it at home. But your calves? Transcendent.”
Robinson – “You will submit your essay at 4:59pm. You will then vanish into the brutalist brickwork, never to be seen again.”
Sidney Sussex – “You will be guided by the vague sense that you’re still in week 1.”
Newnham – “You will become a living embodiment of feminist literary criticism.”
Downing – “You will reference Judith Butler, Foucault, and your own diary. It will be unclear which is which.”
Selwyn – “You will forget your deadline, cry, and then pull an academic phoenix act that leaves everyone else feeling vaguely betrayed.”
Homerton – “You will do all your work on time, stay hydrated, and be emotionally stable. Your reward? No one believes you’re actually at Cambridge.”
Pembroke – “You’ll spend six hours researching one quote. You won’t use it. But you will emotionally imprint on the author.”
FINAL THOUGHT
Academic success doesn’t always look like a starred first or a smug seminar mic-drop. Sometimes it looks like making tea, opening Word, and writing a single paragraph. Sometimes it’s just not crying when the PDF won’t load.
You are still here. You are still trying. And that is, spiritually speaking, a win.
The spirits leave you now. But they whisper this as they vanish into the Sidgwick mist:
You are not behind. You are becoming.