the deadly poppy field and other obscure references.

All right, people. The rough draft of my thesis is due in exactly twenty-three hours, and I'm about one independent clause away from hurling myself from the roof of the library, shouting, "I can fly! I can fly!" and clicking my heels together violently as I fall.

So this is me - desperate, insane, and sort of hungry. Remember me fondly when I am gone.

(Anybody have any thoughts on the cultural omnipresence of The Wizard of Oz and its significance in the American collective unconscious? What about immortality, sex, and death in children's literature? Anything? 'Cause that'd be awesome.)