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One Humanities self-scheduled final down, one Latin to go. First essay brilliant, second less so, third utterly unguessable. It's amazing how well I can write about things that have nothing to do with me, but when they hit me with two questions the philosophical nature of which I have been pondering for months, I freeze up because I don't know the answer. That doesn't usually bother me. I can write essays without deciding an answer. I would say what these questions are, but finals aren't over yet and somebody might see and be warned before they took the test.
People are so alien to me. I am empathetic to the point that I can understand their reactions, but they call it Humanities for a reason. I am learning about humans, and they are very strange.
I retreat to the vagaries of an ancient language that is neither dead as most say nor necessarily pompous as one whom I admire says. Two hours to learn the subjunctive case in order not to fail. Paying attention never used to be a problem for me. I am not trying hard enough.
People are so alien to me. I am empathetic to the point that I can understand their reactions, but they call it Humanities for a reason. I am learning about humans, and they are very strange.
I retreat to the vagaries of an ancient language that is neither dead as most say nor necessarily pompous as one whom I admire says. Two hours to learn the subjunctive case in order not to fail. Paying attention never used to be a problem for me. I am not trying hard enough.
