~ From beneath a stack of computer printed out pages, stacks of books in various sizes comes the sound of pen against paper. Then a frustrated sigh. The a head appears from beneath the mess. A sleepish smiles grow on the young spectacled face.~
Well life still moves on. I still want to be a writer but I need to decided of what of and then there's using the degrees I've aquired through the melting of braincells and sleep deprivation.