"An unused life is an early death." -Goethe

Since it's been nearly a year since I last glanced at this blog, this post is likely to be very stream of consciousness. Fair warning.

As always, life has gotten the better of me. College has proved to be far busier than I had ever imagined – not that that's anything new. I seem to thrive on that feeling of near-burnout, that sense of constant but fulfilling exhaustion. Even now, I'm making lists of all the organizations I'm in and the leadership positions I'll be taking on next year so that I can figure out what to cut – that didn't go so well. It turns out there's not a single organization I feel like dropping. Oh well. Life goes on.

Happily, in the midst of the chaos which rules my life, I've managed to squeeze in a few books this year. I've become rather enamored with Kierkegaard and Goethe. Somewhere along the line I definitely picked up an existentialist streak. Goethe's Sorrows of Young Werther I found particularly poetic, and much to my dismay, I found myself identifying with the anguished romanticism of Werther! I usually like to think of myself as more down to earth than that, but I suppose romanticism is one of the fatal flaws of the academic, and actually, I think I'm ok with that. Having experienced rather a lot of bitter cynicism in the past couple months regarding two of the organizations on campus, both of which I'm attached to, I've decided that sometimes naive idealism is precisely what is needed. Mind you, I think it's important to get out of the clouds before suicide begins to sound even faintly appealing, but you get the drift.

At any rate, I had intended this to be more long-winded, but Morpheus beckons.

Good grief, that statement sounded pompous. Night, all.