I've gotta say, Oprah is getting a little big for her britches...it's all well and good to put "Oprah Book Club" stickers on unknown modern writers like Wally Lamb who write sentimental, introspective novels, but it's gone a bit far when it extends to Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. Does literature need her approval in order to be better?



(yeah i've been saving that up all spring break)



Anyways, here I am at the library, checking in so you know I'm alive. I don't have a computer in my room right now, b/c I bought a new one (or rather, my parents bought me a new one) and it's getting sent.



over and out