Double-Stacked Bookshelves

Seeing as how I have not posted anything in forever, I decided that today would be a good day. Granted, I have nothing to talk about besides the fact that I am slowly becoming apathetic to school...maybe more, but I'm writing this nonetheless. I have essays looming over my head that I should be working on (finishing actually), yet can't find the drive to start them. Maybe it's an unacknowledged interior feeling...maybe it's the Scottish weather...maybe it's nothing, but that's the gist of it. Anyways, sorry this was pointless but I was told that I needed to write something soon...consider this your present...haha. Later!

I have recently come to the conclusion that I am a "head" writer. What, you may ask, is "head" writing? I'll get to that, but first I have to start back at the beginning... As a child there were several things I wanted to be when I grew up. A writer, a teacher, an artist, a librarian, a lawyer; the list goes on. And several things I loved to do: play school where i would force my little sister to "learn" what I had been taught at school (perhaps this is why she did so well throughout elementary school), jump rope (the glories of a multi-colored beaded rope and light up shoes were a real crowd pleaser during performances around the state), read (I wanted to open a neighborhood library in my playroom...the main collection consisting of the Babysitter's Club series and the Golden Disney books. I just knew that there was a growing demand for these in the population of that small town, especially among the kids, all 12 of us, the majority of them