and when the bells of fate sound.

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Mă las. Pe bune că mă las.

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Why have I been writing in Romanian?

Which reminds me of a certain essay contest. The theme was some stupid EU-related thing, but I had a really good idea about what to write and so on. “Must our essays be in Romanian?”, I asked. Apparently, they must.
I can’t even be a proper snob. Not with this ‘only-in-Romanian’ rule.

Come to think of it, I’ve never been a complete snob. Sure, Starbucks and iPods and proper English all add up to a certain level of snobbism (or snobbery, if you prefer. Merriam-Webster accepts both.), but I’ve never been a complete and utter snob. Actually, I’ve never been a complete and utter anything. I’m a walking contradiction.

I want to knit this for my iPod. Yarn I can buy, but I can’t buy knitting skills. Being left-handed certainly is a disadvantage when it comes to learning how to knit.
Wait. I can’t even buy yarn. I spent all my money on tea and booze.

And I have to study for Biology, Maths, Physics and Romanian Lit. I’ve actually studied for Biology and Physics; those I enjoy. As for Maths and Romanian…Romanian I dread and I’m too lazy to start doing maths right now.
Curse my procrastinating ways. I ought to be studying instead of writing this.

Oh, the hell with it.
I’ll just make myself some more tea and pick up a good book. Probably Hardy. Or I could finish Das Buddenbrookhaus.
I’m undecided. Recommend me a book.

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