Another saturday night. Reading Faust anxiously, feeling like i'm wasting my life like him. Flieh! Auf! Hinaus ins weite Land! There was some moderately depressive book whose name i can't remember which i read and there was a line in it, all i want is for this pain to be purposeful. Now if you ignore the overly emotional connotations, that's how I feel. That is, I want the fact that i'm trying to put myself back into the world to bear fruit. It's funny - Faust can't do it himself. In order to live he needs to make a pact. I've been trying to do the same, I partially blush to admit. Specifically, i've been praying: the last refuge of the scoundrel as lisa in the simpsons says. This is a very odd attitude for me to take, as i'm not religious. It means i don't think I can do it. I would never dream of praying for uni success, something within my reach. I think I need to cut this thinking out. By assuming that it's only by something akin to a miracle - a benevolent god existing and choosing to help out in such a situation - that I can live a peopled life, what am i really saying to myself. I'm prejudging it, big style. Another thing that occurs to me is that I need luck. I think, if I'm lucky i'll manage to have an exchange w someone bla bla. Again, in the academic world, I realize that luck is sometimes important, but one tries to work around the effects of fate, by e.g. doing all one possibly can to prevent unluck. I need to realize that to me at least, socializing is akin to a fuck difficult, painful exam. Anyway. Goethe will at least partially keep me company tonight, as my 1st half of a romcom slithers.
It occurs to me that all my eggs shouldn't be placed in the college basket. They've already got gallons of friendly friends. The net may be the way to go. fuck, can't be bothered writing anymore