there is this tendancy of me to procastinate when there is one extra day, so many things are left undone despite of my great plans to do more things apart the norm. more things would be more practice and play time. i achieved one so it should be a great accomplishment i suppose. i read two books. aren't you proud of me? one was horribly sad and i think i just can't accept unhappy endings in books. books are suppose to show the ideal world of fantasy. where hopes and dreams do come alive miraculously. this horrible sad book actually ended with 'he wanted to take a breath of fresh air'- the boy's mother had removed the life support system as he wanted to have his last walk in the garden. he died which was heartwrenching because he had struggled to live for 12 years. i can't blame the author because even if she was kind enough there was no way the boy could be cured.