Thoughts while revising and piecing together my thesis:
- Holy god. I wrote this? I'm a genius.
- Bored. No one else wants to know this much about my life. Non-fiction is a scam.
- I won't ever write anything this beautiful again.
- Overwrought? Really, Alex? Oh wait. She's right.
- How much would a plane ticket to New York cost? Jodi needs an effing hug.
- I shouldn't be allowed near pens. Period.
- How many more hours do I have to do this? My heart has paper cuts all over it.
- I can't see the forest through all these trees. (And now I'm being cliche.)
- What does it say about me that I have to play an Eminem song on repeat for two hours in order to revise a piece about mourning?
- I'm going to make everyone call me Master Camp. Boom.
- If I don't finish this today, I'll be revising on my bithday. And I'm no masochist.
- Hemingway wouldn't even read this shit.
- Pam Houston might. And she's the one who's still alive, so I should think more about that.
- Would M.J. let me join her shell-shucking business on that Mexican beach?
- I should really start working on my grad seminar.
- I should really renew my visa so I don't get kicked out of Norway.
- Nothing feels better than seeing the word 'Brilliant' in the margins of my work. From Alex. From the MFA posse. Hell, from me.