(no subject)
Feb. 3rd, 2008 03:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
niriniaI complained that there was no snow, and I got a snow-storm. But, at the very least, the world is white again. Snow is a marvel, it makes the ugliest of things astounding.
And, apropos, how did I land the role of demi-psychiatrist at parties? Is there something about me that invites people to relate how tear-stainedly miserable they are? I know that I have a talent of sorts for pretending to listen, but I cannot possibly look inviting whem I'm drunk and dancing around, or laughing, bedraggledly, on the floor. In the past week I have had two people confess the most bizarre things to me, completely un-asked for. It is not so much that I mind, but that I am astounded, and curious. Why on earth do people tell me these things? And why will no one discuss literature with me when they are drunk, instead? Why me, and why when I really do not know you?
Perhaps the universe is making obscene hints, or just trying to tell me that languages and social science is not the education I should be looking at, at all. Perhaps I should just get a card saying "Alex - Wannabe intellectual and party psychiatrist. Especially fond of bad discussions".
The interim between the two world wars is particularly boring today, too. I would much rather be reading the introductory essay to Julius Caesar.
And, apropos, how did I land the role of demi-psychiatrist at parties? Is there something about me that invites people to relate how tear-stainedly miserable they are? I know that I have a talent of sorts for pretending to listen, but I cannot possibly look inviting whem I'm drunk and dancing around, or laughing, bedraggledly, on the floor. In the past week I have had two people confess the most bizarre things to me, completely un-asked for. It is not so much that I mind, but that I am astounded, and curious. Why on earth do people tell me these things? And why will no one discuss literature with me when they are drunk, instead? Why me, and why when I really do not know you?
Perhaps the universe is making obscene hints, or just trying to tell me that languages and social science is not the education I should be looking at, at all. Perhaps I should just get a card saying "Alex - Wannabe intellectual and party psychiatrist. Especially fond of bad discussions".
The interim between the two world wars is particularly boring today, too. I would much rather be reading the introductory essay to Julius Caesar.
