Well, I managed to finish it. It was amazing, thrilling, twisted and incomplete. Dostoevsky knows how to finish books, and that alone makes him an incredible artist. It's not an ending, but a beginning of another story, one we get to wonder about and imagine ourselves. Nietzsche said "Dostoevsky was the only psychologist from whom I had anything to learn." But yet, Dostoevsky also understood that you can't ever really understand the motives of people. That sometimes people are just who they are despite their best effort to be something better, bigger, more noble and beautiful. That often we don't understand ourselves, yet we claim to have secret knowledge of others. This arrogance is what makes his characters act the way they do: that and innocence, of which he believed few possessed. The man was a genius.
As I stated previously, I had lunch with my friend Sean yesterday. He's a fellow graduate student so mostly we discuss school and research and stuff of that nature. But we also discuss private stuff on a very superficial level. A man whom I had met, yet was not interested in, had done something which had really ticked me off. This is why Sean is my friend: I told him the situation and then told him that maybe I was being petty, but that it really bothered. His response was who cared whether it was petty or not, if that's the way it made me feel, then it was legitimate. He also said the actions of the guy would have make him uncomfortable too. So that made me feel better. Needless to say, after a very short conversation with this man last night, I don't think I will have to worry about hearing from him again.
the weather is grey and cold, but sometimes that is nice too,