But hey, at least I'm capable of reading Simone de Beauvoir and Maurice Leblanc! *stabs self*
My birthday is coming up in a few days. I plan on having ungodly amounts of sex and drinking copious amounts of alcohol to soothe my heart from the pain that will result from entering my third (3rd) decade of existence. (By "sex" and "alcohol" I really mean "I'll probably do homework and maybe drink some milk to celebrate." God, my life is thrilling.)
For you language geeks out there, check out this Linguaphiles post. Want a pen-pal? Want to learn new/improve your languages? There you go. It's a great idea. I'm sticking to French, Russian, and Italian, for now... although I do have plans to study German and Spanish in the near future...
If anyone cares, I am writing a rather humorous new story (read: novel). The three people who've read it so far say they love it, and they've all burst out laughing. One of them wasn't even related to me! If you'd like to read what I have written thus far, let me know & I'll e-mail it to you. No guarantees that I'll actually finish it.
“I tried to pass over in my sleep, but that didn’t work,” Margie said pensively. Well, of course it didn’t work: ghosts can’t sleep. “I tried to hire an exorcist, but they don’t work for people who can’t pay them. I prayed to pass on over sixteen times, and when that didn’t work, I tried to kill myself.” The fact that she was already dead obviously hadn’t struck her. “I also tried to go toward the light, but I couldn’t find any light to go to.”
Tonya cleared her throat. “Maybe, ah, you aren’t meant to head into that light?” she asked tentatively. Pawel closed his eyes. I struggled to hold back my laughter.