I have (surprisingly) finished my English paper, with 3 hours to spare. It's uninspired, poorly executed, and even more poorly organized, but it's done. Also, I was up way too late last night (roomies were LOUD and I couldn't concentrate) but I did get most of my reading done for classes today.

I still have to finish up "Riding the Bus With My Sister" (which is...good...I swear...). I wish we could read something with a purpose. I miss high school reading lists. A Shakespeare a year, and other classics. Plus some new treasures, especially if you had someone like Wolf or Cohen. They love to throw the occasional contemporary novel in among the Steinbeck.

But no. We're reading "Riding the Bus With My Sister."


The work never ceases.