Limitations and mango tea.

It's funny how when you're sick, everything sounds like it's miles away. Your own breathing feels very loud. That, and when you walk, things jump back and forth in their place and the walls have a tendency to sidle up right next to you. I hate drinking tea and having cough medicine for breakfast. The worst part is that I can't taste anything. All I need is coffee, but when I'm sick the thought of coffee is detestable. Last time I got really sick, last semester, even AFTER I got well I didn't want to drink coffee for a few weeks. It was horrible.

Also, when one is sick, there's a tendency to throw up one's hands with everything that needs to be done. I have classes tomorrow that I've yet to prepare for, and I'm supposed to lead worship at my sister's church tomorrow night. I'm still planning on it, somehow. I'm going to call her in a moment and tell her where things stand - that if I get well, great; if not... I don't know. The horrible thing is that I told her I'd do it a month ago so she's had no time to find a replacement. I either need to get well or sick enough to where I have absolutely no control. Right now I'm in the horrible middle. Middles are a terrible place to be. Mom told me this morning that I "know my limitations", so it's my choice whether I go or not. I told her that I didn't really. I've got this dumb habit of pushing myself and thinking that I can until the last possible minute when I realize that I can't. It's inconvenient, to say the least.

I technically finished Crime and Punishment last night, though I still need to read the epilogue. I love this book incredibly. Books like this are the reason that I want to go to some incredibly smart place for college. I want to be in some place where people sit around discussing their opinions on literature as a hobby. Most of my friends have other interests, and all I want to do when I read brilliant things is discuss them. It's frustrating. I'm looking forward to reading the end, but I don't really want to, in a way. After being in someone's head for over 500 pages, it's a shame to say goodbye and close the cover on them.

I've never read a book quite like this one before. Main characters are usually flawed, of course, but in the end you always want the best for them and you're usually okay with the end because, whether it's happy or sad, it's justified. This one, though, is difficult. The whole time I'm torn, wanting to think that Raskolnikov is actually human and capable of loving the people who would do anything for him - and then, he goes and intentionally does things to injure them. It's interesting that I can understand most of his motives for things. In fact, it's scary how well I can follow his thought process. Still, in my head I want to make him a stronger person than I think he might be. I guess I should read the last few pages, though.

"Then you still have faith in life? Thank God, thank God!"
Raskolnikov smiled bitterly. "I haven't any faith, but I have just been weeping in our mother's arms; I haven't any faith, but I have just asked her to pray for me. I don't know how it is, Dunia, I don't understand it."