2004-06-26

Tea and Such

I suppose that I should update this diary with the trivial instances of my day...

The morning was not so different from yesterday's as I scrambled out of that sea of off-white blankets and pillows that covered my lethargic body--my cell phone woke me up.

I had Irish Breakfast tea in the morning, which--to my own delight--suited my palate quite well. As I stir my tea, I realize that I deeply dislike listening to the irritating ramblings of my roommate, whom I have thus come realize possesses no actual taste in neither literature nor fashion.

Yesterday someone who is equally as pretentious and snobby called me a pretentious literary snob.

Most importantly, Hope and I went out to lunch today, and afterwards we made our way towards a bookstore that--to my surprise--she spotted from such a distance away. Thus, in entering that bookstore with the scent of crisp new pages and glossy covers, three books caught my eye: Moby-Dick (Herman Melville), The Picture of Dorian Grey (Oscar Wilde), and Candide (Voltaire). Obviously, I could not resist the temptation and therefore, I purchased all three of them

(Just last week I purchased a book by J.P. Sartre, and let us not forget my search for another of Howard Zinn's liberal masterpieces).

Oh, but today was not too cruel upon my healing heart, and once more, it began to rain. The Georgetown campus is magnificent under any circumstance. There's something indescribable about this place--unable to be ignored, unable to be captured, unable to be articulated, unable to be forgotten.

The weather-beaten stone insignia bears the numbers "1789", and one cannot help but realize how every step taken here seems like some incredible journey through time, like unpredictable winds the cobblestones and maple and oaks carry you back and forth. I lay in a hammock woven with cloth and put my hands in the pockets of my white hoodie as I feel my mind being swayed back and forth. Thinking of too much as thoughts inside of my head collect like water in some dam--I keep getting lost inside myself, a sojourner in a fog-covered forest. I blink and ultimately realize that I have become a person much too defined by solipsism, and ultimately questioning everything that I once thought was real. If I could--for one moment--stop getting so lost in these thoughts of mine. I drown as they wash over me like the salt-drenched ocean water.

aeka at 7:24 a.m.