2006
08.11

I’m in a rush and nobody seems to walk faster than a 60 year old with a walker. I groan inside as I pass a group of 18-19 year olds in front of me. They’re having a conversation about Google Earth and moving at a snails pace. Don’t they understand that some people aren’t there to shop at H&M?

After doing several of my errands I reach into my bag for the address of my next and final stop. It’s nowhere to be found but I think I have a general idea of where it is. “Oh well,” I thought “I know that it’s kind of near Macy’s.”

The address is proving to be more important that I thought and nobody seems to know where it is or what I’m talking about. I’m sweating like Whitney Houston staring at an empty crack pipe as I make my way down every side street off of Washington. Suddenly I’m face to face with a husky fellow who sports a shit-eating grin and carries a glossy binder in his left hand.

“You. Me. We need to talk,” he says to me.

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2006
07.15

I stumbled out of bed on Tuesday morning and went to the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice before heading home. I opened the fridge and heard my boyfriend and his roommate Brendan bitching and complaining about having to take the train to work.

“Whats your problem,” I asked in between sips of Tropicana.

“Dude, The fuckin’ tunnel fell on some broad! Now we gotta take the train,” said Brendan.

My boyfriend yelled, “I knew I hated The Big Dig!”

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2006
06.11

I began writing at the age of 5. I had just started learning to read and was absolutely consumed by it. I remember my parents telling my first grade teacher that they hoped that I’d become a writer and that they could actually foresee it happening. Even at the age of 5, I was really proud of myself and flattered that they would have such high expectations.

I’ve never put the pen down for more than a few years at a time. Still, I haven’t managed to accomplish a whole lot in the literary field.

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