My dog is sleeping on the couch next to me, having a dream and it’s adorable. His little legs are shaking like he’s chasing something, and he keeps letting out mini barks. It’s so cute. He’s so much cuter when he’s sleeping than when he’s awake. He’s such a brat. At least I only have to deal with his brattiness on weekends, but my parents live with him all the time! Haha. But that might not be good for him. My Dad’s been feeding him grapes, which apparently have been known to cause acute kidney failure in canines.
Seriously, my parents need to read books more often. They don’t read books. The last book my Dad read, I’m pretty sure, was The Rock’s autobiography. And I haven’t known my Mom to read any real books, and the last one I saw her read was this really awful Robert Ludlum novel I lent her, that I’m pretty sure she didn’t even finish. The fact that my room is overflowing with books is just another testament to my black sheep-ness.
I kind of like that though. Being the weird one. It’s a conversation topic at least.
We watched this movie in my American Political Thought class called Harold and Maude, and it was ultimately based around concepts of existentialism, and radical individualism. After the movie finished, we had a discussion on what individualism means, and some people argued that Maude was being an individual purposefully to rebel against modern society. However, I disagreed. I thought Maude was just being exactly who she wanted to be, and the fact that it was outside the bounds of what society considered normal was just a sort of coincidence.
I aspire somewhat to be like Maude. She had a penchant for stealing cars, and that did not sit well with me, but I want to be the kind of person that people admire because they live how they want to live. I mean, I’ll live within the legal boundaries of society, but the social norms? Not so much.
