Artwork
I've finished a couple paintings during my (little) free time, so if you'd like to take a look at them, be my guest.
Eugène calls this one "Coffee Stain Composition." He has no appreciation for abstract art. (I think I can see how he came to call it "Coffe Stain," but I do not drink that much coffee, and I would not deliberately spill it on a canvas.)
I'm partial to these earthy colors -- browns, blacks, tans, greens, yellows -- though I'm not really sure why.
The Spirit of Man in Two Sentences, by V. Hugo.
The spirit of God, like the sun, always pours forth a flood of light. The spirit of man is like the pale moon, which has its phases, its departure and its return, its clearness and its spots, its fullness and its wane, which borrows all its light from the sun, and which, however, dares sometimes to intercept its rays.
That will be my new "quote." I intend to write it on all my notebooks and textbook covers.
I have been pondering something new, after flipping through the library. A mini-rant that I have put under the cut if you don't wish to read it.
So much has been going on since I first arrived here. A review of my day's classes:
1st Block, Biology with Dr. William Dampier: Not as interesting as I had first hoped. Dr. Dampier's method of teaching is entirely uninspired and longwinded. I think even I could make the cytokinetic process more interesting. I ramble most when I write, not when I talk... but he isn't a bad man, really. One of these days I will give him more dynamic suggestions that will enthuse us. Or am I the only one who holds this opinion of him? I think I'll take painting in the next semester.
2nd Block, English: A (somewhat) tolerable class, though too large for my liking. I have nothing against my classmates -- in fact, they amuse me greatly -- but there are just too many of us.
3rd Block, Latin: ...Well, I can stomach this class, I suppose. I have some personal gripes about my compositions in this course, but that's another matter entirely. I will not go into detail on that.
Lunch: After two hours and fifty minutes of surviving hell, I am released for a forty-minute respite: lunch. I look forward to this the way a convict looks forward to a daily walk on sunny days.
4th Block, Romantic and Victorian Poetry -- One of my favorite classes, though rather easy.
5th Block, Math: I hate--or dislike immensely, since hate is too strong a word--this class. I don't think the instructor thinks too highly of me, either. Give me philosophers over this any day. Lacenaire, whom I have mentioned before, wanted to be the "scourge of society," but failed miserably. I wonder if the math instructor wants to be the "scourge of his students"? If so, he has succeeded in my eyes. And since this block is a rather small class, he enjoys picking on me all the more. If we represent the Soviet Union, he is Stalin.
6th Block, 18th/19th Century History: My favorite class. Enough said.
And so it appears my classes progress like this: Boring, somewhat tolerable, all right, liberating, easy but enjoyable, hell, and downright fun.
I think I'm done at the moment...
Eugène calls this one "Coffee Stain Composition." He has no appreciation for abstract art. (I think I can see how he came to call it "Coffe Stain," but I do not drink that much coffee, and I would not deliberately spill it on a canvas.)
I'm partial to these earthy colors -- browns, blacks, tans, greens, yellows -- though I'm not really sure why.
The Spirit of Man in Two Sentences, by V. Hugo.
The spirit of God, like the sun, always pours forth a flood of light. The spirit of man is like the pale moon, which has its phases, its departure and its return, its clearness and its spots, its fullness and its wane, which borrows all its light from the sun, and which, however, dares sometimes to intercept its rays.
That will be my new "quote." I intend to write it on all my notebooks and textbook covers.
I have been pondering something new, after flipping through the library. A mini-rant that I have put under the cut if you don't wish to read it.
So much has been going on since I first arrived here. A review of my day's classes:
1st Block, Biology with Dr. William Dampier: Not as interesting as I had first hoped. Dr. Dampier's method of teaching is entirely uninspired and longwinded. I think even I could make the cytokinetic process more interesting. I ramble most when I write, not when I talk... but he isn't a bad man, really. One of these days I will give him more dynamic suggestions that will enthuse us. Or am I the only one who holds this opinion of him? I think I'll take painting in the next semester.
2nd Block, English: A (somewhat) tolerable class, though too large for my liking. I have nothing against my classmates -- in fact, they amuse me greatly -- but there are just too many of us.
3rd Block, Latin: ...Well, I can stomach this class, I suppose. I have some personal gripes about my compositions in this course, but that's another matter entirely. I will not go into detail on that.
Lunch: After two hours and fifty minutes of surviving hell, I am released for a forty-minute respite: lunch. I look forward to this the way a convict looks forward to a daily walk on sunny days.
4th Block, Romantic and Victorian Poetry -- One of my favorite classes, though rather easy.
5th Block, Math: I hate--or dislike immensely, since hate is too strong a word--this class. I don't think the instructor thinks too highly of me, either. Give me philosophers over this any day. Lacenaire, whom I have mentioned before, wanted to be the "scourge of society," but failed miserably. I wonder if the math instructor wants to be the "scourge of his students"? If so, he has succeeded in my eyes. And since this block is a rather small class, he enjoys picking on me all the more. If we represent the Soviet Union, he is Stalin.
6th Block, 18th/19th Century History: My favorite class. Enough said.
And so it appears my classes progress like this: Boring, somewhat tolerable, all right, liberating, easy but enjoyable, hell, and downright fun.
I think I'm done at the moment...