I got back the repressed Western Civ test on Wednesday night. I got a 95. Only one wrong. Go figure.
I posted a drabble on
lost100.
It's here. It is not, however, one of the stories that has been living in my room for several weeks. I just wrote it out the other night. There are still plenty of others.
My sister and I are split-shifting baby-sitting at our next door neighbors. Every time I go over there my desire to ever have children gets smaller and smaller. Even when they're being utterly adorable I can't stand the thought of having a child permanently. Of course, I do have a list of names that I really like and that I would use if I ever do have the opportunity.
Sylvia Plath, depressing as she is, is strangely enjoyable. My lit professor even lent me a recording of her reading a bunch of her poems not long before her suicide death.
I really wish that July 22 would come quickly. So many people are talking about the Serenity movie and making icons of the show and I really want to see the show. As I said before, I miss my Joss.