Apparently <3 is supposed to be a heart! Ohhh...
The internet is so retarded.
Why isn't PH a beaver in a pirate costume, then?
2007/09/29
Paper
Philosophical problems and philosophical writing require careful and extended reflection. Don't wait until two or three nights before the paper is due to begin. That is very stupid.
Ah, Jim Pryor, how dare you call me stupid. Though I am, I have less than two days to wite my 5-7 for Poli Theory. Which, apparently, is pretty much philosophy. I keep distracting myself, too. For example, I rearranged the furniture in my room, made omelettes, partied, slept, lined up my shoes in a row, did laundry, wrote on my blog, made a receptacle (tin can) for my pens and pencils, thought about buying a chair, made an excel spreadsheet, arranged guitar picks like flower petals, set my alarm clock for monday morning, and made a to-do list which says WRITE PAPER in big letters. Hey, I even hi-lited it. In four different colours. Now I'm looking for some popsicle sticks, and a glue gun...
Ah, Jim Pryor, how dare you call me stupid. Though I am, I have less than two days to wite my 5-7 for Poli Theory. Which, apparently, is pretty much philosophy. I keep distracting myself, too. For example, I rearranged the furniture in my room, made omelettes, partied, slept, lined up my shoes in a row, did laundry, wrote on my blog, made a receptacle (tin can) for my pens and pencils, thought about buying a chair, made an excel spreadsheet, arranged guitar picks like flower petals, set my alarm clock for monday morning, and made a to-do list which says WRITE PAPER in big letters. Hey, I even hi-lited it. In four different colours. Now I'm looking for some popsicle sticks, and a glue gun...
2007/09/18
2007/09/03
Montreal, a confessional
I'm torn, simply. On the one hand I wake up screaming at the imaginary people invading my room, on the other hand I
And that's just it.
I have no other hand that I know of. I've heard second years say, "Remember ____ at frosh? He/She was insane!" and I already know that to a certain percentage of this school, that's me. I've spent one night at my own rez in the past 6 days, but there are very few people I've met that I'd spend any time with later. While I should have been meeting people similar to myself, I was...perverting myself to some ideal that I have never ascribed to in the past, and with luck never again in the future.
(Right here, I got up and cooked myself some eggs and hashbrowns, grabbed some cereal and yogourt, and broke my fast in style)
And now I'm back, completely changed from something simple, wonderful, food. Overwhelming hope...music is so important to me, it can cheer me up in a second.
"Remember cuddles in the kitchen, yeah to get things off the ground..."
In conclusion, I have an overwhelming urge to write extremely long letters, but only so I can get extremely long replies: full of daily mundanities, petty problems, and other bullshit that is the stuff of life. The faint, confused pulse of the western world.
And that's just it.
I have no other hand that I know of. I've heard second years say, "Remember ____ at frosh? He/She was insane!" and I already know that to a certain percentage of this school, that's me. I've spent one night at my own rez in the past 6 days, but there are very few people I've met that I'd spend any time with later. While I should have been meeting people similar to myself, I was...perverting myself to some ideal that I have never ascribed to in the past, and with luck never again in the future.
(Right here, I got up and cooked myself some eggs and hashbrowns, grabbed some cereal and yogourt, and broke my fast in style)
And now I'm back, completely changed from something simple, wonderful, food. Overwhelming hope...music is so important to me, it can cheer me up in a second.
"Remember cuddles in the kitchen, yeah to get things off the ground..."
In conclusion, I have an overwhelming urge to write extremely long letters, but only so I can get extremely long replies: full of daily mundanities, petty problems, and other bullshit that is the stuff of life. The faint, confused pulse of the western world.
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