Before I get to the title… some updates:
- My C drive needs formatting. I got Kaspersky internet security in the morning and that very night… FUCK! And I’ve had it with pirated software and cracks and keygens, I’ll probably spend six hundred bucks and buy an original Kaspersky from Die Batra Wird.
- I was sick for a week. According to my doctor, it was a normal viral fever only with ‘nads of steel! The resilient sonofabitch gave me a steady fever of a 103.5F for almost four days continuously.
- I’m forcing myself to get back to reading. Sorta working. I’ve been loo-reading Niall Murtagh’s “The Blue-Eyed Salaryman “, a pretty nice insight into Japanese corporate life although I feel the laddie (I see Irish names and I say ‘laddie’) tries too hard to portray himself as this wanderer / explorer / adventurer.
- In lieu of the above point, I’m re-reading “Not Even Wrong” by Peter Woit and am planning to redo “Three Roads To Quantum Gravity” by Lee Smolin as preparation to tackle “Gravity: An Introduction To Einstein’s General Relativity” by James B. Hartle (It took me an hour to finish the second chapter of this book. I knew I was in a reading rut after that!) and Roger Penrose’s 1,136-page “The Road To Reality“.
- I also went through an article that highlighted the books people claim they read and the books they actually read. Oddly enough, I’ve read most of the authors in the “show-off” list: Ramachandra Guha – Brilliant! Outstanding! Amazing!, Salman Rushdie – Eh. Ok., Arundhati Roy – BITCH!, Stephen Hawking – Life changing, but have since found better, et cetera. I’ve only read two books in the “what people actually read” list: Bran Down! Bran Down! Alert! Alert! Bran Down! (for people who aren’t in on the inane joke: Dan Brown –> Bran Down –> Brain Down) and JK Rowling. I’ve written an entire piece on this topic which is stuck on my Hard Drive.
- I also bought myself a book. It’s only my 2nd book purchased this year! Gasp! “Crime and Punishment” by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Hope this goes better than my attempt at “War and Peace” when I was 12. An endeavor (endepo) which ended with my frustration at the fact that soiree the goddam book opens with seemed never-ending.
I wish I hadn’t fallen sick. I’m now short on the cash I was saving up to buy the ‘In Rainbows‘ CD. Fuck.
Right. Now, this is my last week as a Teenager. Come next week and I shall turn twenty. Will I suddenly become mature? Is this the end of my “teenage angst”? Will I be more serious, less weird and impulsive and settle down and start doing things with my life? Give my existence meaning? Will I stop listening to rock music and start listening to 1950s hindi film music?
Probably not. But I’ll miss being a teenager. And yes, since I’ll be a score, does that count as “Dude, I SCORED!”.