Bad, bad me. Whatever happened to iron-willed, steely-focused studying? A tiny, quick entry, that's all, I have promised myself, and then it's back upstairs to the books. Every since I moved my room around, I've been studying in the orange armchair I dragged upstairs from the basement. It's so bizarre to be studying upstairs in my room... I've always been a kitchen table studier, one who would gripe about the steady drone of conversation and interruptions around me while secretly relishing it as unavoidable opportunities for procrastination.
Anyways. So much for my apparent anonymity on my blog. I am still not quite sure if I intended this blog to be as anonymous as my previous one, or if I started a new blog for precisely the reason to actually have a place to connect with the known. A little of both, I guess, but again, my fault completely. It's too hard to resist the temptation of connecting... is it a pride issue? Back to the second grade, but instead of comparing lunch boxes, we now compare blogs?
I rest bemused, slightly ashamed, but with not enough time to consider this farther. Back upstairs I go...
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