I just came from a pictorial for my upcoming play and I'm on my way to the dance studio. Things are heating up day in and day out. It definitely is tiring, but I love it. Sometimes, I wanna hurry things up, but the process can't.
Anyway, I just finished reading Flowers for Algernon. The plot revolves around a man with an I.Q. below 70 who undergoes an operation that alters the enzymes in his brain to make him intelligent. It's a sad tale that confirms a hypothesis I formulated long ago-- The amount of intelligence you have is directly proportional to the amount of responsibility and, moreover, problems you have.
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