So I just read that Susan Sontag died, and I let out a large gasp of shock. Fifty thousand people died in a wave and I let out no gasp, dismayed as I was by the news. I am reading Butler's Precarious Life right now, which talks about this, about how some lives come to be greivable and others don't and am feeling a mild disgust with the way my brain has come to process certain news items.
I am at the Princeton Review now and have been told of a glitch to my plan, have found out that there is probably only about another week's work of work here until March. I still think I am going to try to quit the Strand right after New Year's.