...

So much to do...and yet I'm talking to you.

That rhyme is so painful, but I can't bring myself to delete it.

Today is a wandering day. I haven't really accomplished anything, except read an essay on confessional poetry, which is a genre which can be either utterly horrifying or exceptionally beautiful and specific. I should write a response paper on it before the concert I'm going to at 8, but it's probably not going to happen. I also have to at least outline a paper that is due Tuesday. I also discovered recently that a book I have to read this week is 300 pages. !!!. I think that by the time I am dead, I will have read everything in existence. In English at least. It's a worthy goal, I think.