Right now I am in the middle of writting five dialectical journals (I still dont quite know what they are myself) on Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse and scourging youtube for Regina Spektor songs that have not yet found their way to my eager ears. The dialectic journals are all due tomorrow and I just finished my first one. It took an hour. All I did was compare Siddhartha to the Buddha (a rather obvious comparison). I'm rather proud of the sentence "Through this combination of metaphorical and literal lightness and darkness, Hesse foreshadows the eventual, defining difference between the two." I know taken out of its context, this makes no sense, but within my dialetical journal, believe me, it sounds rather nice.
In short, you are currently reading the manifestation of my momentary procrastination.
I still do not want to return to the dreadful task before me of these damned dialectical journals.
I have been going French crazy on a side note. Nobody I know in America speaks French here except for one boy and my french teachers. The boy makes fun of my accent and my French teachers dont seem to care to speak French so much. I have been yelling at my brother such things as "Fermez la bouche! T'es trop embetant!" (shut your mouth! You are too annoying!) and cooing to my dogs, "Bonjour ma petite chienne. T'es trop mignone. Tu parles francaise? Non? Tu parles pas anglais aussi, je devine. Tu parles chien." (hello my little dog. You are too cute. You speak french? No? You dont speak English too, I guess. You speak dog).
The weather here in Arizona is also predictably miserable this time of year. I have actually burned my hands on my car's steering wheel so badly that the poor skin on my hands is peeling like old paint. I'm starting to use some bright blue vintage gloves with giant bows on them for protection and it looks rather silly!