cindy was online in the early afternoon, and tried to talk some sense into me.

so even though i don't much feel better, i started going through the norton american, reading here and there a few short works, trying to patch up things up a little.

so i was reading the dickinson letters to higginson, and suddenly feeling that i like possession better. thinking about christabel's dog tray, and smiling. and that - that i like emily better too. the hesitant need for a mentor, a preceptor as she calls him, and being both sure and unsure of her own greatness, and wanting to be instructor, and yet not holding on to her self, unwilling to be altered - at least not fundamentally. a child, and then not a child.

i go back now, to try to get through some more american lit.