Okay fine I will write something. it's almost October and for some reason I want to press shift everytime I hit the period button> it looks like I can't finalize any sentence ever.
But anyway> I am taking this writing class called "a writers world in books and film" where we basically learn about a certain writer for three hours and then watch a movie based on them or something they wrote. So we just did Virginia Woolf and next week we are watching the Hours. Everytime I come out of there I feel like I should be writing epic poetry (or in this case feminist non-fiction) and/or drowning myself in a river with stones in my pockets. I found the Bell Jar (after about 20minutes of wandering the stacks, too proud to use a computer to search up the code... too dumb to figure out the crazy system the library has of shelving) And the pages are marred by all these notes of pseudo-intellectuals who are reading waaaay too much in to half the things she says, if you ask me.
Anyway today was probably one of the most embarrasing times of the year. I walked around for like 1/2 hour with a LOT of blood on the back of my pants. Nobody told me either. I was just 'that chick' with bloodstains in unlikely places for no apparent reason, because Believe Me, I was wearing stuff down there. Lets not talk about it.