I think my journey isn't over, but my book has somehow fallen off.
I'm in Pampa, Texas, and I have so much to say about Chris, but I'll never do him justice. I stayed at his house for one night, and he talked to me for four hours, and what he said has all run together.
I hate leaving things. I was doing so much better when I wrote as I lived. Trying to remember what happened, to reconstruct the feelings I had at the time, is increasingly difficult. And I'm trying to live life again for the first time in a year or so, rather than putting it off. I took the GRE and applied to substitute teach.
But I want to finish. You don't even know about Todd the vagrant who doesn't wear shoes or the single leaf of pot I own. You haven't heard about Walnut Canyon or the worst road on Earth.
There's a lot of story out there, and I lived part of it. I hope I get a chance to share it with you before we both die.
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Well, here for when you do tell those stories.
ReplyDelete(Alternatively, finish the book and get it published and I'll buy it.)
I'm glad you've taken the GRE. Substitute teaching is okay, I suppose, a good tide-over job (unless you really end up loving it, but somehow I doubt that). I was not super happy with it when I did so, but hey, work is work.
I just want to have some money so I can drive to my cousin's wedding + then figure out graduate school.
ReplyDeleteMakes sense to me. Graduate school is a thing and itself, though. One of my professors said it was his observation that grad students choose classes based on whatever their current existential crisis is at the time, and I feel like there's some truth in that (and about more than just grad school, but still).
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