Between papers, blogging, journaling, posting, and email, I write a lot. To read me, I think, is to know me, and it struck me today that I’d put money on the fact that my professors, after 2 years of reading my papers, know me better than my parents do, who have never read anything I’ve ever written (that I know of. There’s a questionable incident when I was a kid with my diary, but it was never confirmed.)
That kind of made me sad.
Today, though, full of spunk and half-way clear lungs and nose, I spent a couple of hours showing my dad how to use the internet.
It’s an exercise in futility, since I’ve done it several times before, and I will most likely do it several times in the future.
Today, though, was rather enjoyable, despite the crossed arms and the curse words which were, unbelievably, not my own.
Lyrical Fool 