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Wednesday, October 29th 2003Things are not going as planned today. By now, I am supposed to be done chapter 15 of Ulysses and moving right along through to the end. Unfortunately, my brain has decided that none of the words have anything to do with each other, so I'm having trouble reading whole sentences. Nothing makes much sense, and I'm starting not to even care. Also, the too many books problem has not quite been solved. In fact, I discovered that, like, I can take books out of the library. Yeah, who knew? So now I have a stack of four fancy essay books to read, and when do I think I'm going to have time for this? I have no idea. If I can just get through today, and just get through the next 400 or so pages of gibberish, then everything will be fine. Other than that, I have nothing at all to report. The past few days have been spent almost entirely inside books, so I haven't done much. What a strange way to lead your life, though. Why did I chose to spend my youth reading books? Why am I not getting a degree in taking walks, or planting trees, or going on adventures? Why did I choose to get my B.A. in sitting on my bed and living inside my head? So much frustration. I'm sure I wouldn't be so annoyed by this if only I could concentrate for more than three minutes at a time.
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