She is difficult.
Exam times suck.
On the upside, theatre is breathtaking, music is riveting, and I could build my house next to the theatre any day.
Plan to quit job at church and subsequently take time off to deal with spiritual crisis is slowly formulating in my head, now just got to work up the guts to actually admit it. To the churchy people.
May need some motivation from Bob, a loudmouth friend of mine from home, who went from raving Jesus-freak to raving atheist a few years ago. He has called me ignorant a few times, and he’s probably right.
Studying romanticism = question of reason versus emotion resurfaces! maybe God makes no sense (logic, reason, rationality) but he still exists and loves us (feelings, opinions, sentiments, beliefs)… I don’t know, really, I am so lost.
What else…It’s been two months since I was last home for a holiday, and so two months since the holiday hook up – turned -more than friends – turned -now not even speaking. It’s been two weeks since I heard from him, and I’ll probably give in tomorrow and sms him.
Nails will probably need plastic surgery after this week’s ravaging. If quitting nail biting is this lame, I cant imagine how hard it must be to quit heroin. Maybe im just pathetic and weak-willed. very possibly so.
Less academia, more theatre. Less shallow learning, more devouring and embodying and living and doing.
One of the few lines out of the thousands I’ve read, that I actually loved:
Samuel Coleridge writes:
“So will I build my altar in the fields,
And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be…
And thou shalt not despise
Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.”
(from “To Nature”)
And this bit:
“Vixi! Vivit adhuc immemor ASRA mei.”
[My life is done! Yet ASRA still lives, unmindful of me.]
(from “Ad Vilmum Axiologum”)
I went to bed last night at half 12 and woke up at 7. I am like a cat – if I sleep for less than 18 hours, it’s kind of a problem. 😛 It is now 00:40 and somehow I’m getting up early again tomorrow. To finish off Coleridge’s poems, and fly face first into a big fat pile of KEATS! OOOOH DELICIOUS!
At least I’ve finished reading through Wordsworth. Somebody in heaven (or wherever he may be) please send him a message from me, with two words:
“Verbose – eish.”