I have a paper to get a GOOD start on tonight (1500-2000 words on setting in Wuthering Heights and Possession: A Romance. Please kill me) and I figure I ought to get all of the random junk out of my head before I do this.

I hate school right now, but I have to stick these courses out until at least January, when I get to take my new ones. I just don't see the point in writing paper after paper and discussing book after book when all I really want to be doing is curling up in the lap of someone special and creating character after character, finally putting all of myself into my writing.

Well, I find there's not nearly so much to say as I thought. Off I go into Victorian literature...It's frightening that that's making me groan...