In the fall I wrote a novel. In the fall I wrote 2,000 words a day. If I did math I would translate that into the month-long count of words that I did for the month of November. NaNoWriMo was a cool exercise, with an s; not a z.
In the fall of 2011 I took a morning yoga class. After changing at home, I went to my middle school to interview for a position of employment with the head of school. She told me was that she remembered me as a good writer, after offering me a brownie as she ate salad. In my freshman year I got the highest grade on the final in algebra at this school, and had an essay read to my religion class as an example of a well-done piece. My English teachers told me to work on my grammar. After her lunch, the head of school introduced me to the athletic director. I was offered a position as a basketball assistant coach, but said I had enjoyed running track when I was in high school. He would call me later if he chose to offer me the position. I ate my brother's meatball sub when I returned home after the interview.
I read some tips on how to be a better writer this morning. There is a file of my novel on my old computer, but that computer doesn't work very well since I spilled an entire vase of water into the keyboard as I slept on the soft carpeted rug in my new apartment. Father enters bedroom at childhood home, and addresses adult daughter: "Why do you sleep on the floor?" Adult daughter answers: "It helps my back." Adu- aughter doesn't mention that the bed also isn't made of metal, and that she gets frightened by electromagnetism. The new apartment has metal scaffolding, but I spent a few months sleeping on the floor, regardless.
This morning I read a list of tips that claim to be tools which I can use to be a better writer. I lay on the floor scrolling through them. It was around the completion of snack time when my boyfriend who lives on a different continent asked if I wanted to speak. He said he will most likely get a kitten who is potty trained when he moves to the other side this continent. I said that a kitten would probably be difficult for me to have since I am away from the apartment for many hours during the week.
Then, he took out his lunch. I got up to get dressed but suddenly felt too hungry to go outside. Also, I told him that I was concerned the doorman might say some comment about how I was not going to Lollapalooza this weekend. So I sat down with my spoon, and a few scoops of better-n-peanut butter. I also ate the contents of a can of organic ravioli from a BPA- free can.
I proceeded to read the internet, and after a couple of short hours, took out my half-the-sugar jam and ate the remainder of the almost-full jar. About 4 tablespoons of raw honey was a supplement when the low-sugar jam as well as the final traces of my full-sugar Strawberry jam were gone. About 1/2 cup of Better-N-Peanut Butter was the last thing I ate. That is quite a bit of energy for a Saturday, so a small glass of ZZZQuil was the next supplement.
In the fall of 2011 I took a morning yoga class. After changing at home, I went to my middle school to interview for a position of employment with the head of school. She told me was that she remembered me as a good writer, after offering me a brownie as she ate salad. In my freshman year I got the highest grade on the final in algebra at this school, and had an essay read to my religion class as an example of a well-done piece. My English teachers told me to work on my grammar. After her lunch, the head of school introduced me to the athletic director. I was offered a position as a basketball assistant coach, but said I had enjoyed running track when I was in high school. He would call me later if he chose to offer me the position. I ate my brother's meatball sub when I returned home after the interview.
I read some tips on how to be a better writer this morning. There is a file of my novel on my old computer, but that computer doesn't work very well since I spilled an entire vase of water into the keyboard as I slept on the soft carpeted rug in my new apartment. Father enters bedroom at childhood home, and addresses adult daughter: "Why do you sleep on the floor?" Adult daughter answers: "It helps my back." Adu- aughter doesn't mention that the bed also isn't made of metal, and that she gets frightened by electromagnetism. The new apartment has metal scaffolding, but I spent a few months sleeping on the floor, regardless.
This morning I read a list of tips that claim to be tools which I can use to be a better writer. I lay on the floor scrolling through them. It was around the completion of snack time when my boyfriend who lives on a different continent asked if I wanted to speak. He said he will most likely get a kitten who is potty trained when he moves to the other side this continent. I said that a kitten would probably be difficult for me to have since I am away from the apartment for many hours during the week.
Then, he took out his lunch. I got up to get dressed but suddenly felt too hungry to go outside. Also, I told him that I was concerned the doorman might say some comment about how I was not going to Lollapalooza this weekend. So I sat down with my spoon, and a few scoops of better-n-peanut butter. I also ate the contents of a can of organic ravioli from a BPA- free can.
I proceeded to read the internet, and after a couple of short hours, took out my half-the-sugar jam and ate the remainder of the almost-full jar. About 4 tablespoons of raw honey was a supplement when the low-sugar jam as well as the final traces of my full-sugar Strawberry jam were gone. About 1/2 cup of Better-N-Peanut Butter was the last thing I ate. That is quite a bit of energy for a Saturday, so a small glass of ZZZQuil was the next supplement.
