My life lately is sort of blur, but mostly in a good way. Except for that bleeding transfiguration essay, which sort of needs to write itself. Otherwise, I'd settle for instant death of an essay. I'm thinking that should be the title of Arthur Miller's next play. I might even care about it, then.

( All the crazy surveys, where do they all come from? )

( More quizes, each one weirder than then next. )

( Yeah, I'm going to hell. )

( 50 questions. Which is like 20 questions, but longer. )

( Private like... I dunno. Private things. )

( Private )

( Private )

( Private )

( Survey, another )

( Countdown Survey.. thing. )