My brain has become a machine to translate Spanish to English and find symbolisim in a pencil. School is so tedious. I'm working so hard, and for what result? Never ending days drag on slowly, and I just write papers and read things I don't understand. So...very...tired...ah, but what does it matter? No matter how much sleep I get I'm always tired. Nothing ever slows down, nothing ever stops. I'm never able to catch up. It's raining outside, and my roommate's playing in the rain. She's a silly girl. She loves storms. She loves the lightning and the thunder. She thought about being a meterologist for a while, but that got turned down for something else (one of her many changes of major). I think I want to write my senior thesis over either Charlotte Bronte or C.S. Lewis.