HAY, FLIST.
So, I got a bunch of books from a thrift store yesterday. Eighteen in total, actually. Most of these were textbooks (on biology, chemistry, psychology, sociology, economics, history, and politics), but I also got four plays by Shakespeare (Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Hamlet, and Julius Caesar) and The Republic by Plato. They are all currently residing on my bookshelves, which I fear will break under the sheer weight of all the textbooks. I keep telling myself that I really should start reading them, since it'll be such a monumental task, but instead, I'm typing an inane post on LJ that nobody cares about. That would be usual...

It's funny how I used to loathe thrift stores. I hated them -- for their faint aura of dirtiness and disorganization, their boringness and their aisles full of broken baby toys and grandma-style dresses. Maybe they're just better now, or maybe I've developed more of a curiosity for small, old things that have been given up and shoved to the back of a stained shelf. Maybe both.

My parents finally took me to the library. I actually found The End of Faith by Sam Harris there (astonishing). I am, admittedly, only fifty-three pages into it, but I'm not sure whether I like it very much. It seems overly simplistic, and I find myself doubting a lot of what's in it. The back cover tells me that Harris is a graduate in philosophy, but, I don't know, it doesn't seem to be what I would expect from a philosophy graduate. But then, I'm definitely not a philosophy graduate, so who am I to judge?
...Besides, maybe the rest of the book is different. *shrugs*

There's an ad on the side of this page telling me that God loves me and has a plan for my life. I find this strangely amusing.