My dog is sick. I hate that. I hope she gets better and doesn't have anything seriously wrong with her.

I keep forgetting what day it is. My watch stopped a few weeks ago and I haven't bothered to change the battery and I haven't even missed it. It is wonderful not having school or work to worry about. I know what a privilege it is, I know others are working hard and busting their butts at school. It's scary how I am so used to having days free to schedule things however I want. I'm not used to working hard anymore. I heard once on Dr. Phil that after a year of unemployment, only ten percent of people find a job. Is that me? I'm employed part-time and I've been in school, but I have also been a huge slacker for most of the past year, sleeping in and procrastinating and what-not. Am I turning myself into a bum? I'm sure life will intervene and I will cry when I have to face the harsh reality of things. I am 100 percent sure of that.

Books that I definitely have to read: Blue Blood by Edward Conlon; Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky; Bridget Jones' Diary by Helen Fielding; The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion; Stiff by Mary Roach; and some book I picked up at Barnes and Noble and decided not to buy but now I regret it. It's about an MIT professor who lives like the Amish for a year. No technology. And I cannot remember the name of the book or the author and I have searched for it on Amazon but to no avail. Oh well. Maybe I will come across it again some day. I am so frenetic about books. Like I want to read so many books but actually getting through a book ends up being harder than I anticipate, so many times I will stop reading mid-way through a book, esp. if the book ends up being not as good as I expected. It's rare when a book ends up really affecting me. I don't know if that's because of the way I read them or if it is because there are so few really good books out there. Or am I just reading the wrong books?