This desk set wants to fly.

After a rather traumatic Sunday, which I can't remember if I al-luded to on my blog or not, I've been mentally reassessing my life and what I want.

I want to write. Not Write, but write. And publishing would be wonderful, but I'd rather help other people get published. I want to see other writers succeed.

I want to get a PhD in English literature.

I want to teach and research at a university.

More specifically, I want to teach contemporary literature, more specifically poetry and drama.

I want to be a theatre critic. (Some of you might be saying, You want to be Claudia Harris. Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.)

These are my top five right now. Somewhere down the list are "I want to date, fall in love, get married, raise a family," but that isn't my focus right now. (Insert Trentian comment about how I'll change my mind next week.) Also on the list are traveling, learning more about Bollywood, living in London, studying at Trinity College in Dublin, etc.

I just want to live. I'm sorry that this post isn't comical or anecdotal, but this is what is in my head. That these are the things I want to do and these are the things I will do.

And someday everything else will happen.