I’ve been using too many exclamation marks in my conversations with my parents. But I’ve also been saying I do this and that wrong too many times.
The professor says I’m brilliant, and I’m working to accept that more wholeheartedly. Sometimes, because I didn’t go to college, it is difficult; but when I accept the fact that I am pursuing a writing career, being whatever today’s novelist or poet or this new profession which is emerging and only possible now that the age of the internet has arrived, my brilliance becomes easier to accept.
Musette asks if I want to get in the shower, and I tell her that I am making coffee, and that it is just about done, “All I have to do is go over there and press it.”
She is feeling sick like me. I keep blowing my nose. There is thick mucus in my throat.
I put cream and sugar in both our cups. Her cup is blue and I prefer it over mine which is holiday. Hers is rounder than mine.
I ask her how it is. She says it is so good.
I tell her it is good for a sick child, but I’m not sure if it really is.
It does make me feel better though.