My book collection is suffering extreme malnutrition and is starting to look more like a beside table for my alarm clock than a point of reference or vessel for adventure.
I move in phases with what I read and it has been quite sometime since I have been completely absorbed in a story (cough Twilight series cough).
It has taken me almost 10 months to read The Bell Jar, though today I will conquer this - it is on my mental list of things to do whilst not being able to move due to my appendix being plucked from my body leading to the four white walls of confinement.
Most importantly, I am looking forward to stumbling upon an extraordinary, or modestly entertaining premise for a piece of writing. I find it highly amusing that the more time I have at my disposal to write things down, the harder it is to locate an idea.
"to be true to my own weirdness" - Syliva Plath