I watched the movie, Inside Out, tonight. I watched it when I should have been writing.
And I am fine with that. I was fine with that when I made the decision to watch it, and I am definitely fine with that decision after watching it.
[Editor’s Note: Welcome back Christine!]
When I’m bored, I like to look through old essays I have saved on my computer.
I like to revisit these files and see the state of mind I was in when writing. Was I feeling sad? Was I happy? Was that time in my life an exciting one?
During one of my recent moments of file revisiting, I came across one that made me pause.
Lettertobob.doc stared me in the face, and I honestly could not remember what it said. I knew exactly who the letter was written to; but what did I say? Normally, when I see the name of a file, I am easily able to remember what it is and then I can choose to open it and read it…or not.
I drew a blank.
I sat for a few moments, nervous. I could hear dramatic soap opera music playing…
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