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I won an award for going to graduate school. They gave me $1,500--and I have yet to internalize that that much money will be in my bank account.
Wow.
And I want to write a poem, not about this, but my brain refuses to actually drop words, instead of -- . . . ! ! !, ?
Which, while very illustrative of my state of mind, is remarkably devoid of actual syllables.
Oh, well . . . we'll see what happens.
And I'm missing yet another new episode of Queer as Folk in approximately a half an hour. Curses.
Wow.
And I want to write a poem, not about this, but my brain refuses to actually drop words, instead of -- . . . ! ! !, ?
Which, while very illustrative of my state of mind, is remarkably devoid of actual syllables.
Oh, well . . . we'll see what happens.
And I'm missing yet another new episode of Queer as Folk in approximately a half an hour. Curses.