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In my reading of A Farewell to Arms, I find myself lost amid fragmented sentences like patchwork quilts, each one consisting of several unrelated thoughts tacked together by "and."
Hemingway's style is lost on me.
The point of continuing with this nonstop-stressed-out-can't-really-even-tell-if-I'm-discontent-because-I-don't-have-time-to-reflect thing is also lost on me. Although I don't really know what my options are, realistically. It's not so much a stress factor as just constantly having stuff to do. I feel selfish and lazy, in a way, for wanting to put myself before all these other things . . . But there you are.
My hip feels a lot better, though. So that's good.
"I spent the afternoon musing on Life. If you come to think of it, what a queer thing Life is! So unlike anything else, don't you know, if you see what I mean." -- P.G. Wodehouse
Hemingway's style is lost on me.
The point of continuing with this nonstop-stressed-out-can't-really-even-tell-if-I'm-discontent-because-I-don't-have-time-to-reflect thing is also lost on me. Although I don't really know what my options are, realistically. It's not so much a stress factor as just constantly having stuff to do. I feel selfish and lazy, in a way, for wanting to put myself before all these other things . . . But there you are.
My hip feels a lot better, though. So that's good.
"I spent the afternoon musing on Life. If you come to think of it, what a queer thing Life is! So unlike anything else, don't you know, if you see what I mean." -- P.G. Wodehouse