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I’m nineteen, bitches! I’ve been nineteen for about two days, actually. And I love my readers. You have brought me back to the blog.
This will be a filling-you-in post.
I don’t know why I stopped writing, exactly. You could say that I went through a rough period in July, which surrounded my last post. And then by the time I’d gotten over that, I’d made a new close friend and I was already moving back to Richmond–this time into an apartment on the edge of the Fan and not a dorm. Virginia and I are roomies! We can cuddle all the time! I also have my own room now, so I’ve been a partial hermit.
Another reason it’s been difficult for me to write is that I also started keeping a journal. I began this journal way back in March, but it’s grown into somewhat of an epic effort. At first, this helped me to keep my most personal thoughts private and organized, but then it seemed that everything I wanted to write about was most personal. Of course, this is no longer the case. I could write about a whole mess of not-so-personal things. I may still indulge from time to time.
I guess I’ve omitted a whole lot of things lately. I got my nose pierced way back in June but I guess I forgot about it. I forget about it most days. I can’t really pinpoint why I got it pierced, except that we were in Rhode Island and it seemed like a superb idea at the time. I figured that I would like the way it looked, and I do like the way it looks. My mother is not fond of the fact that I wear a hoop. Not fond at all.
My sister’s petite cat, Todd, had three babies. I wanted to name one of them Lloyd after the Camera Obscura song, “Lloyd, I’m Ready To Be Heartbroken.” I think I succeeded, but I haven’t even seen Lloyd. I don’t know which one is Lloyd. There is also a Fez (probably from That 70s Show) and a Noah or Nell. Not really sure there.
I’m in three French classes, meaning that most of my weekly credits are in French, meaning that I will gain a bit of knowledge in my subject of interest each week. I’m still madly in love with French, but I’m intimidated by my peers. In French class, it’s not so much competition as it is self-betterment, I guess. You can tell who’s studied abroad by their accents and speed of speech. I’m not sure whether my peers gather that I am timid or just not very fluent. It’s a pretty sudden reversal from high school, where I was pretty fucking rad at French. What is fluency, anyway? I am decently awesome at understanding spoken or written French, but I am also decently shitty at speaking French myself, partially because my language is choppy even if I’m speaking English.
Considering my study abroad options, I want to study abroad for an entire year instead of just one semester. This will be emotionally difficult, I think, but it will be more worthwhile. I’d like to go to a smaller town. I do not want to study in Paris.
It’s good to be back, friends.
I owe an entire post to Synecdoche New York and a different one to Completely Naked, specifically Intimacy. And yet another to photography of all sorts. Sometime soon. I’ve been gathering material for you.
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