Barbarous.

I've been back three weeks now. My first days and weeks were ripe with social interaction, but my many companions have since departed, and I find myself in the midst of what I hope will be a relatively short bout of self-imposed isolation.

I've taken to chores, doing the laundry and tidying odds and ends (though, in this case, not for the purpose of warding off my inevitable death and decay; that purpose which housekeeping is so often used for by depressed, Rachael Ray-watching, Joel Osteen-loving housewives), skin brushing, and a re-discovering Neutral Milk Hotel's "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea."

My laundry list for the coming weeks and months is lengthy. On top of the obligatory job and college applications there is of course my own personal, private education to attend to.

For the moment, Leo Tolstoy has filled that space. As I continue to wade through the treacherous, murky swamp of joblessness and academia, it's a comfort to know that his Levin, Katia, Anna and Count Vronsky are by my side.

From Levin, I am attempting to learn piety and discipline. From Kitty, greater kindness. From Anna and Vronsky, the values of commitment and clear thinking, and the consequence of selfishness.