Not good.

Nope.

It's 1:30, and I have to get up at seven. Why I insist on doing this to myself, I don't know.

I don't think I really have any plans on what to write about tonight. I guess I'll just start writing and see what happens.

I don't have a very interesting sex life. In fact, I don't have a sex life at all. I'm not really looking for one just now. Though I am a confessed "horny little bastard."

I'm 20. Did I mention that?

So, for my next assignment in my French writing class, I have to write a five page research paper on something pertaining to the concept of paternity in the works of Victor Hugo. The fact that the only thing by Victor Hugo that I've read is a short poem called Demain D�s L'Aube (I think that's what it's called) doesn't seem to be important here. I guess we'll rev up the old bullshitting machine and see what happens, eh? See, this is why I could never seriously be a humanities major and sleep at night. How useless is this assignment? Who cares? A person who gets a PhD in biochemistry brings us one step closer to a cure for (a type of) cancer, or something useful like that. A person who gets a doctorate in French writes a huge thesis or whatever on "concepts of paternity in the works of Victor Hugo." Maybe some other French professors will read it, but by and large, no one cares, and it really doesn't make any difference whether or not it was written. I'm not saying literature and writing aren't important, I'm saying that people spending their lives coming up with questionable interpretations that no one ever reads (or would want to read) of that literature is. Yeah, you'll never read the thesis of a biochemistry doctoral candidate. But the medicine he or she created will save your life. Maybe I'm just being narrow minded.

Thesis. Antithesis. Synthesis.

This calls to mind one of my favorite quotes from my organic chemistry textbook. The book's actually quite amusing to read, if you can believe that.

"First of all, it is necessary to learn to draw a decent cyclohexane. No person can truly be described as educated unless he or she can do this, and anyone can, regardless of artistic ability. So learn how to do it and the next time your roommate mentions some obscure European writer, impressing you with his or her erudition and calling into question your sophistication, confound your tormentor with a perfectly drawn cyclohexane!"

The book is peppered with funny little editorials like that. Can YOU draw a cyclohexane?

Chuck keeps asking me, "Are you okay?" The question really gets on my nerves. As long as I'm not trying to restrain myself from pulling the trigger of the gun I just shoved into my mouth, I don't really care if I'm okay. I'm going to keep trudging through every day regardless, so what does it matter? For now, I'm probably better off not concerning myself with whether I'm "okay." It's irrelevant. Or at least, I wish it was...

"I refuse to 'look up.' Optimism nauseates me. It is perverse. Since man's fall, his proper position in the universe has been one of misery." -from Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole

Actually I don't really believe that, but it's a fun quote, anyway. By the way, Will, if you're reading this, I imagine you'd quite enjoy the main character of that book.

I'd better quit while I'm ahead. Tomorrow ain't gonna be pretty. But hey, live in the now, right? I seem to often act without regard for my future self. "Oh, it's okay if I go and do this. It's Future Self who'll have to deal with the consequences, not me." And when future self becomes self, "I HATE Past Self! How could a person be so selfish and short-sighted!" Yes, I hate myself, but only retrospectively. My general rule is "Don't hate yourself in the morning- sleep till noon." Unfortunately, that's not possible tomorrow. Or, today, that is.

Please step away from the keyboard, sir. This is for your own safety as well as the safety of those around you.

disenchanted the romantics,

greyarea

Diaryland