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On a midnight refusal to open Skype:
I am here and you are there and that is just something we're going to have to get used to. Takes me until September sixth to really feel as if I'm going to get used to it.

In a day after today, Nicole will complain that Project July has gotten too depressing for her, of late. I guess that's something of the catch.



But at midnight with a best friend writing a first paper of a last year, I have a lot of terminal language in this sentence and it makes me feel normal.

(Two days from now, I will learn where Bryan gets the idea to tell us to avoid terminal language. The poor boy never had Mr. Strauss. Too much pity I have for him. Too much Yoda speak I use.)

(Is my writing becoming too personal? Is it becoming too hard for outsiders to relate? This is not a rhetorical question. I feel as though I'm becoming vaguer and less about the fiction. I apologize, if you miss that. I miss it, too. I think it has something to do with my own preoccupation with my own life. Extreme emotions do that to me.)

(If you knew me [in which case you'd be able to relate to everything I say here], you'd begin to realize [or maybe not] that I don't really write well in extreme conditions. Very happy or very sad yields shitty writing. So does stress. Unless essays are what you desire.)

(Do you want my Frankenstein essay? I doubt it.)

(I write best in the middling land of EH.)

I think I'm overdoing it with the ()s. But they're a useful rhetorical device, I think. Not that they put ()s on any list of devices for any AP exam of any kind.

I'm getting back into school mode. Happy September!