I read Orlando and enjoyed it the most of what I've read of Woolf's so far (To the Lighthouse and Mrs. Dalloway). What's funny is, I checked Orlando out from the San Francisco library in 1993 after I first saw the movie. Had no idea who Virginia Woolf was, aside from hearing the name referred to occasionally. Couldn't get through the book; it was indecipherable to me then. Kind of embarrassing, since I was 26 at the time [has it really been that long ago?], but at least it shows that my intellect *has* developed somewhat. Thank god.
My sleep/wake cycle is all fucked up. Backwards. I'll be taking my final with acute sleep deprivation. And this fucking paper won't write itself. I think I took on too big of a topic. Think I'll just focus on one book instead of my original idea. Let me pop a couple of Wellbutrins. The doc upped my dose, and I swear, it's as good as speed.
I designed an intarsia pattern and knitted it up. After several corrections, it turned out kinda cute. I'm getting the hang of this color knitting thing. Me likey.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 5:52 PM
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