If it tastes like Brie

Shit, I thought.  When will this ringing stop?

Then I remembered some things which happened during the night and in the darkness found a pen and jotted something down on a receipt lying on the night stand.

Next year should be a good year.  I’m excited for classes, research, activities around school. Living.  As I shuffled my schedule around on a spreadsheet, I reflected on how much free time I have here in London.  I am blessed with the freedom to wander around in museums or parks or clubs or books all I want.  I have work and classes on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday only. That’s a four day weekend.  This is my last not-busy semester, I thought neutrally.

Except that I’ve thought that before.  And still four years of education go on.  And when will I start doing things, I wonder.

Dan collects cutouts of interesting things he finds in magazines and pastes them to a notebook. And periodically, I do something analogous too, collecting links and references from journals or blogs for further reference.  What I think with a sinking feeling is, why not daily?  This is why I am so bad at Spanish, I thought, too.


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