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Date: February 17th, 2020.

Time of Writing: 11:02 PM.

Weather: Warm during the day enough to just wear a hoodie. Colder at night, seasonal.

Mood: Tired.

Day Overview: Woke up, sat in bed for a while, realised that I had an essay to write, and I moped about it. Sat down and wrote the rest of the essay, skipping whatever meal would be my breakfast, cranking out about 1,500 words before finally declaring the essay complete. After I finally got out of the shower and got dressed, I shuttled a basket of laundry down to the seventh floor machine before heading downstairs and outside to the service desk in the neighboring low-rise hall to get a package, new shower-flops. Struggled to get them open for a bit before finally realizing how to actually open things. Switched the laundry by bringing it up to my floor, where there was in fact a dryer free. Then, I went back downstairs, let my friends in so they could use the ping pong table on the nineteenth floor lounge, and went to get lunch.

What I didn't realize until I was sitting on my friend Jackie's bed up in her dorm was that I accidentally ate pork for lunch. Today was supposed to be my Meatless Monday, and I, in my fugue state, ate pork. With regret, I declare that tomorrow will be the first Meatless Tuesday of my life. Jackie, her roommate Samara and I went to the food truck for dinner, where I got a Ginger Brussel Sprout Quesadilla and a side of fries. I ran into my rank leader from the season, Chloe, and her friends. Only said hi to her, that's all, she was with her own friends and they got their orders and dipped well before I was even ordering food. Jackie, Samara and I eventually got food, which seemed impossible given the line that was there when we arrived, and then went back to the dorm and watched cursed videos for a few hours until I realized just how late it was and went home.

On My Mind: Nineteen is a liminal age. The new feeling of freedom from turning Eighteen has worn off by now, and the full responsibility of Twenty-One is still a good way off. The thought of getting old is starting to creep in. The idea that there's a life to be lived beyond being a teenager begins to haunt you. It's really the worst age I've been in a long time, if I have to be honest. I'm having a good time, sometimes, but whenever I think about how old I am I just feel dread. The end of a decade of my lifespan is eight months away. Thus begins the adulting. The one is replaced with a two. It continues. Ugh.

Works Consumed: Works In Progress:

Works Produced: 1,500 words of essay, a few more hundred words of creative writing later in the evening.

Other Thoughts: Thank you for reading my blog. This week's episode of my radio show The Theme Machine is about Dreams, and one thing I'd like to do is read some dreams on the air; but, I need your help! Please send me your weird dreams! Anything PG-13 is good, and if you think I could tell it in a PG-13 way by omitting some things that would be good too. You can listen to the show on WMUA Amherst, 91.1 FM, at 12:00 AM to 2:00 AM on Friday mornings.