forty feet remain

10 Aug

Sorry I haven’t written for the past few days, but nothing much is going on and I didn’t want to bore my dear readers with descriptions of making guacamole and lying on my bed.
But there is some stuff worth writing about, I just had to condense it over a bit of time.

So: I have a typewriter. It is approximately 50 years old. My sister thinks the clacking noise it makes is the most annoying sound ever, but I kind of like it. It’s satisfying to see the letters appear, satisfying to go back and try to mark them out if you mess up, satisfying to go to the next line. I got something like 60 wordsperminute on that machine. Respect is deserved.
I’ve been writing just stream-of-conciousness narrative, and I’ve noticed that my writing “voice” tends to switch from female to male and back again. It’s a little bizarre, but now I kind of understand why those people on Omegle and whatnot think I’m a dude before I correct them.
Also been kicking myself, a little, for not doing things differently in Paris. (oh damn, now I have to think of a new codename, crap)
(actually, never mind)
I think I’ll leave that particular issue in the dark at the moment and go on living– I can’t stand ruminating over what I could have done. Because what I did, I did.
And the best I can do now is to keep in touch, which I’m doing as well as I can- and to be open to new opportunities that might arise.
It’s senior year!
Who knows what’ll happen?

Will write later.

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