Notice how I have been good about blogging every day? I'm not sure why that constitutes "good," but it does.
Today I read some Wordsworth and part of a novel about quadroons, and attempted to get my guitar calluses back. From when I read the Prelude in college, I remembered it as a slog, but this time around I'm liking it: "Fair seed-time had my soul and I grew up / fostered alike by beauty and by fear." Isn't that nice?
I also didn't remember that Wordsworth spends most of the first book talking about how he has writer's block, how he has these vague big ambitions but then gets overwhelmed and decides to tool around the countryside instead of writing, but then not writing makes him miserable. I was like, Hi, Poet Friend.
I'm more nervous than I should be about my interview with Dr. Mom tomorrow. At a party last night, I had occasion to sum up my reaction to the company's apparent management style as "Don't put me in the fucking Panopticon, hobbit!"
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