I have 3 SAT II's, an AP and all of my finals coming up within the month and a half and I'm stressing out a bit, but I'm still happier that I've been in a long time. It's hard not to be happy in the middle of New York. There's so much life and stimulation! The richness of the city also makes it easy to tell the goats from the sheep, or whatever that phrase is, by the way people react to the environment, typically either by ignoring it and pretending that they live in the suburbs or by really persuing an education while they're here.

That said, I have to admit that I know very little about contemporary music or literature, and what I know of contemporary art I accredit largely to Harry's influence. It's not that I'm a classicist, either; I just don't know where to start. I listen to everything people give me and read everything I'm recommended but it's not enough, and I have to admit that I feel like it's a waste of time to go to Barnes & Noble and pore over books of poetry that may or may not prove worth reading. I largely rely on word of mouth to find new art.

Actually, I used to go to stores and try out music or browse through books for hours on end--but these days I just don't have time! Donovan once told me casually that he never bothers to read something that he isn't sure will be worth his while, and I just nodded and leaned in over the proofs to fix a typo, not understanding his perspective or the relevance of the comment. Now it's clear to me because I've arrived at it. Life is too short to read bad books. (I suspect that he was talking about the dullness of proofreading a student article that you've already edited several times.)

Whenever people try to convince me to do something by asking if I can "spare an hour of [my] life," I feel instantly inclined not to do it. It's about the least persuasive argument I can think of. It makes me feel like I don't have extra hours. I don't know if this is only true of me or is a widespread sentiment, but I make a point of never using the phrase.

The search for reading material is never-ending. I write down every title or author that anyone I respect mentions and read every book I am lent fairly religiously, often sacrificing grades or sleep, and use Wikipedia to find authors similar to some of my favorites. I used to read the books I felt I was supposed to read--Jane Eyre kind of stuff--but got bored of it pretty quickly and realized that I had to find people with both knowledge and taste and extract as much information from them as possible. I continue to do so, but I can't help but feel like I'm missing out on a lot of modern literature.

Earlier this year I worked coat check at a writers' party at the Used Book Café and ran into several of the masterminds of contemporary literature (and took their purses). When I told Lauren about it, she knew almost all of them, putting my two- or three-novel repetoire to shame. It really woke me up.

I think I subconsciously shrink away from books that are widely read because I hate to see something that I love misunderstood or pop-culture-ified, and I'm afraid that I'll like it. I'm sure I'm also afraid to like something and realize that my tastes are completely normal.

But it's China Town Ice Cream Factory time, and literature can wait.