Sleep

In my defense, I didn't start reading Hemingway on purpose. Okay, actually that was a lie. 

 I bought The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway on half.com after Cate recommended that I read A Clean, Well-lighted Place. 

 I recently started reading said short stories.

Let's talk plots. 

Story number one: Woman has an affair and then accidentally shoots her husband in the head while hunting in Africa.

Story number two: Paco and his friend are playing matadors. Paco gets stabbed in the femoral artery and bleeds to death. 

Story number three: Man goes hiking, gets a scratch, gets gangrene, dies. 

I'd keep going, but really, I think you get the point. 

According to Hemingway, why did the Chicken cross the Road? 

To Die. In the Rain. Alone.

Since I'm too young to die in the rain alone,

 I went back to my roots: good old fashioned young adult fiction. 

The McGillicuddy Book of Personal Records by Colleen Sydor.

A book about a kid who likes to read quotes by famousmart people. 

Ironically, it listed this quote by Mr. H himself. 

Now, let's just pretend for a second that Hemingway was not the author of 98% of the saddest stories in all of time. Let's say someone with my outlook on life had said that.

Now wouldn't that be funny and brilliant? 

Speaking of funny and brilliant and sleep,

the other day on Pinterest I found a quote that is probably the most descriptive of me and my life.

But seriously, ask my family, my roommates, or anyone who's ever been on a road trip with me. 

My life motto could essentially be expressed as:

Happy weekend.