Having your thoughts as your only companion forces you to meet yourself. We now understand the principle fear of what it means to be lonely.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
10/7/2012
Today I made strawberry shortcake for the first time. At my age, the things I can do for the first time, though plentiful, are still rarer and rarer.
It wasn't too bad. I don't care much for sweet bread but I wanted to do something nice for Christian since he has to put up with me doing my homework all the time. I didn't want him to eat it alone even if he likely wouldn't have minded eating the lot of it.
It wasn't too bad. I don't care much for sweet bread but I wanted to do something nice for Christian since he has to put up with me doing my homework all the time. I didn't want him to eat it alone even if he likely wouldn't have minded eating the lot of it.
Right now I'm reading L'Étranger by Albert Camus so that I can write an essay on it for my French 3033 class. Taking a literature class in a tongue that isn't your own requires at least double the effort. I find some irony in that I'm having to devote so much energy to writing an essay on a book whose themes seem to bask in the common and absurd, though I can't explain to you why I have this impression. I like this book in a way I cannot explain. I think I'd like it more if it weren't assigned. I'll never understand that.
This book has an air about it reminiscent of Hemingway's "A Moveable Feast." It's beautiful in a subtle and unassuming way. I am drawn toward this kind of beauty in general, I think.
This book has an air about it reminiscent of Hemingway's "A Moveable Feast." It's beautiful in a subtle and unassuming way. I am drawn toward this kind of beauty in general, I think.
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