Pandora's Skinny Love station = an addiction that promises to assure me a good winter.
I get to go see all my lovely LSCC students this Friday night.
I get to go see Chicago next week.
I get to go live on an island in the Indian Ocean for six months, beginning in less than three.
And oh yeah, I chopped all my hair off. It was freeing, something I did entirely for me, and I haven't gotten upset at all.
What's not new?
I am still obsessed with autumn, and the changing/falling of the leaves only confirms this.
I still haven't seen Bob Dylan in concert, unlike many of my friends as of the next few hours.
I love my parents. (Which is always true, but especially so on days like today when I can spend time with them.)
I procrastinate.
I am still in the same situation as far as love-life goes that I've been in for the last year, but much more at peace with it. At least today I am.
I like to read. A lot. I crave it more than chocolate, which in itself should cause alarm.
Also, there are three Jacks in my life. One is Clive Staples "Jack" Lewis, who, though dead and brilliant, is currently aggravating me a great deal. You see, the first two books of his Space Trilogy were nothing short of glorious, but That Hideous Strength is taking about 130+ pages too many to get interesting, which is inconvenient due to aforementioned addiction plus my lack of free time. The second Jack is Philosophy Professor Jack Knight, who selfishly planned a test the same Thursday that I need to be in Chicago to get my French visa. The final Jack is my dear friend Cameron's dad, and I like him because he subscribes to the same theory that I do regarding my snicker-doodles: they're better than yours.
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