Fuming in the Vapors
Tomorrow is Halloween, but my roommates will not be handing out candy, because we decided 500 pieces of peanut-free was just too much.
(Also, not a one of us can be found to really like children, so we are going to eat the candy we have bought so far by ourselves.)
Monday it was an insect on my lap; today it was a spider scuttling up my shirt as I did homework. When will these bugs leave me alone?
I really do enjoy the book Villette. I liked Jane Eyre, but not to this degree. Lucy Snowe is an unsentimental, descriptive, and often biting narrator. The unrequited love that she experiences (and it is not the kind of book to highlight romantic love) is the kind I can relate to -- that which is never spoken of but exists only as a cherished hope that must eventually be buried and forgotten. Some of the descriptions (mostly natural) are so perfect that, no matter where I might be reading, I felt myself transported. This is what a book should be able to do.
(I have not finished yet -- I'll be done by next Friday.)
I am bothered whenever I think of the future, even of as near a future as the end of the semester. I am supposed to write "The Paper I Still Need to Write (at college)" for my Senior Seminar class by the end of the semester, and I am supposed to have decided on my topic by this week. Suffice to say, I do not yet know what "The Paper I Still Need to Write (at college)" is. I have thought and thought, but I have not yet found a matter of sufficient sources that I would be comfortable spending 12-15 pages with (or however much I need to write). It seems to me I should take this opportunity to write what I like, at which point I discover that the things I like are not very scholarly, and even though I could wax and wane on the merits of anime and fantasy literature indefinitely, perhaps my professor would not find the topics so interesting.
(I'm learning toward fantasy literature though -- perhaps I could write on some particular author? It is a shame I am not well-versed in Tolkien, because I'm sure he'd make a good paper topic. C.S. Lewis, meanwhile, is probably a bit over-used at this fine institute of learning.)
If you could not tell, I am playing with stream-of-consciousness/spur-of-the-moment entries. Certainly, it does not take so long to write.
But still, it is time I go to sleep. Tomorrow I may be dressed in a somewhat Gothic fashion (as far as I can manage -- I wish I could say "Gothic Lolita," but I cannot in good conscience). I plan on watching some Higurashi no Naku Koro ni, then attending a Poe reading. Also, laundry.
Happy Halloween, dear friends.
(Also, not a one of us can be found to really like children, so we are going to eat the candy we have bought so far by ourselves.)
Monday it was an insect on my lap; today it was a spider scuttling up my shirt as I did homework. When will these bugs leave me alone?
I really do enjoy the book Villette. I liked Jane Eyre, but not to this degree. Lucy Snowe is an unsentimental, descriptive, and often biting narrator. The unrequited love that she experiences (and it is not the kind of book to highlight romantic love) is the kind I can relate to -- that which is never spoken of but exists only as a cherished hope that must eventually be buried and forgotten. Some of the descriptions (mostly natural) are so perfect that, no matter where I might be reading, I felt myself transported. This is what a book should be able to do.
(I have not finished yet -- I'll be done by next Friday.)
I am bothered whenever I think of the future, even of as near a future as the end of the semester. I am supposed to write "The Paper I Still Need to Write (at college)" for my Senior Seminar class by the end of the semester, and I am supposed to have decided on my topic by this week. Suffice to say, I do not yet know what "The Paper I Still Need to Write (at college)" is. I have thought and thought, but I have not yet found a matter of sufficient sources that I would be comfortable spending 12-15 pages with (or however much I need to write). It seems to me I should take this opportunity to write what I like, at which point I discover that the things I like are not very scholarly, and even though I could wax and wane on the merits of anime and fantasy literature indefinitely, perhaps my professor would not find the topics so interesting.
(I'm learning toward fantasy literature though -- perhaps I could write on some particular author? It is a shame I am not well-versed in Tolkien, because I'm sure he'd make a good paper topic. C.S. Lewis, meanwhile, is probably a bit over-used at this fine institute of learning.)
If you could not tell, I am playing with stream-of-consciousness/spur-of-the-moment entries. Certainly, it does not take so long to write.
But still, it is time I go to sleep. Tomorrow I may be dressed in a somewhat Gothic fashion (as far as I can manage -- I wish I could say "Gothic Lolita," but I cannot in good conscience). I plan on watching some Higurashi no Naku Koro ni, then attending a Poe reading. Also, laundry.
Happy Halloween, dear friends.