Siddhartha

I was feeling guilty after reading a Star Wars book and Twilight right in a row, so I read a classic to make myself feel better about my literary prowess.


Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse is the tale of a contemporary of the Buddha in India who is struggling with the meaning of life. He leaves home, meets the Buddha, becomes a rich merchant, and ultimately, finding happiness in none of these things, discovers his purpose as a ferryman on the bank of a river.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book.

However, if you think about reading it, you may want to find an annotated edition--I was familiar with some of the Hindu/Buddhist terminology from my Ancient India course, but had I not been enrolled in that class I may have been a little lost.

[Edit]

So I've spent most of my break stressing and psyching myself out about my 10-page Roman History midterm that is due Friday.

But in two hours at the library I have been able to churn out a solid 3 1/2 pages with an outline and a good idea of what the rest of the paper needs to look like.

Why do we always do that?

If I hadn't wasted so much time worrying I could probably be done with this paper right now and able to be outside enjoying this wonderful day.

Human beings are such silly creatures.