I have spent the majority of today in front of the computer. This has to stop. It is a crime on my part to ignore a day's natural beauty in favor of a piece of machinery, but I have done wrong today and will do so again.

My reading as of late has not been very consistent, as I spend a large part of my time wallowing in my own misery. However, all is not lost, not entirely. What I have read recently has been inspiring and intellectually stimulating, and I have ascended halfway from my self-created pit of depression and darkness. Tolstoy's Confessions speaks to me, what I've read, though I've not yet arrived at the part where (I assume) he relates his conversion to theism and discovers a meaning for living. Beyond that, Alain de Botton's The Consolations of Philosophy has really helped bring some clarity to my problems, and I aim to read more by Montaigne, Nietzsche and Schopenhauer.