I am unequivocally disenchanted with life today. Time is dawdling in the flowery fields, ignoring my desolate cries to hurry on.
In short, I am mildly bored for the first time in ages. Thankfully, I know the remedy to boredom a la Dorothy Parker: The cure for boredom is curiosity. What to do with this remedy? I don't know.
I have altered my schedule for next semester. After a meeting with the fine folks in the registrar's office tomorrow, my schedule should appear something like this:
Global History (Core)
Theatre (To stretch)
Philosophy of Religion (Core)
Reformation Theology (Gateway to better theology courses)
History of Missions (Because missionaries are hipsters: thin, arrogant, and they listen to obscure tribal music)
The forthcoming semester is churlish. Of course, school has always been churlish. Why should next semester be any exception?
Although next semester I have those grand volunteer plans which should integrate some immediate (if not temporal) meaning to my existence save studying and succoring my fellow confreres with their struggles.
Thomas Mann was brilliant, if not demoniacally possessed.
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