Neoteric.
Yuppie-dom.
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I defended my master’s thesis yesterday. I passed. I am Natalie, M.A. Birthing my paper baby was a bit anti-climactic, and I’m feeling a little post-partum depression.
T minus one month, one day until relocation.
Divorce.
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When I was in elementary school, I wrote constantly. Constantly. Someone in my family eventually bought me an electric typewriter, and I used it to write essays and novellas and poems and neighborhood newsletters. Once, when my father brought me back hotel stationery from his most recent business trip, I used the typewriter to send him a forged “balance due at the Hilton” letter. I’m sure he didn’t believe the letter, but he acted like I’d pulled the best prank ever.
Anyway.
When I was in maybe the fifth grade, maybe the fourth, I wrote a short story on divorce. My English teacher allowed me and a friend to hang out in the word processing lab (that’s right; they didn’t have computer labs back then. We learned ‘word processing’ on Tandys). I spent an afternoon there typing up my story, and I proudly presented it to my English teacher. Now, I proudly present it to you.
Leasing.
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The neighbor said, “You can’t leave me.”
I shrugged and laughed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just gotta go, ya know?”
“I know it,” she said, and she flicked her cigarette ash in the planter.
One.
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There was a specific moment, I’m sure of it, when the wind started to blow in a different direction. I don’t remember sticking my head out the door and thinking, “Time to blow this way, now,” but I know it probably happened. (more…)
In progress.
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Changes will come soon. I’m just setting up, so check back in a day or two! Then I’ll hug ya or somethin’.
In the meantime, feel free to expand your vocabulary.
