The Downlow

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austin, texas, United States
aspiring writer, English and journalism student, hails from Texas. likes include writing, coffee, books, whisky and people.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

along the eastern shore

my internal clock is busted.
That is a photograph of what I want my house to look like when I hit the point in my life during which I lock myself in my home and do nothing but write. None of these pictures are mine, again, but I have a feeling they're more enjoyable than a multitude of photos of my smiling face.
I want ambient lighting and time to think. This morning I took an exam then went back to sleep and woke up to a phone call at 3:30 pm. I'm not sure what I've eaten but I just went out and bought some cheese sticks and some red bull and I'm spending tonight cleaning my dorm before going to sleep only to wake up early tomorrow for a doctor's appointment that I'm absolutely dreading and the beginning of a weekend that isn't really a weekend at all.
Yesterday I figured out exactly what course my life is going to take.
I am obsessed with my career. If you knew me in high school, I haven't changed in terms of how I can go into "newspaper mode" (a phrase coined by close friends) as quickly as you can say "print is dying." But this really intense feeling always overwhelms me when I hear friends say that they don't know what they want to do. It's something similar to regret, maybe? A weird inverted nostalgia? Either way, sometimes I wish I wasn't sure either so I could go through college like everyone else, unsure and discovering themselves. Maybe I still have something to discover. 
More editing and trying to figure things out. Things are going, slowly but going going going.
You are my favorite.
ps. I am the real Loch Ness monster.

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