What would you do if you lost your job tomorrow? Do you have a savings? Do you have enough to cover six to ninth months worth of all your expenses? Would you be OK for a while? Would you have a place to go? I am anxious to hear how stable people are. (If you leave a comment, feel free to do so anonymously.)
Many people have suggested that the turnout for this year’s election among college aged students will be huge. I am not trying to dispute that. That’s not the point of this post. But I do think that what some of the skeptics are saying is indeed very possible. The best way to illustrate this is to share a personal story.
We went to the Greenpoint children’s Halloween party yesterday. Beforehand, we stopped by our friend, Caroline’s, for hot cider and pumpkin cookies. While the kids ran around in the backyard, I took a few pictures. Channon lent us the outfit because the idea Toby and I came up with fell through. Nevertheless, I think he made an excellent octopus.
Let me begin by saying that I’m no expert on the subject of hate mail. I haven’t ever sent hate mail to anyone. It’s just not my style to open an empty mail message and write about how much I hate someone. But some people do it. Some people compose dreadfully cruel letters. Perhaps they need to get something off their chest and writing it down makes them feel better. Perhaps they get high on the adrenaline rush. I guess those people and their actions make some sense.
Tobyjoe and I packed up our books back in June because we thought we were moving in July. That didn’t happen because our landlords said we could stay through December. Another thing that didn’t happen was the unpacking of said boxes. They’ve been taking up space in our bedroom ever since.
Em stepped in some poop this morning. I am not sure if it was dog feces, squirrel feces, human feces or raccoon feces. It seemed like too much to be squirrel and too little to be human. I have to admit, I kind of hope it was squirrel feces because I think squirrels have the better diet out of all the animals listed above.
I had a professor in college whose job it seemed was to make every one of his students as stressed out and angry as possible. The night I was accepted into the Graphic Design program I got a phone call from one of the seniors. He said, “Congratulations! You will cry. You know that, right? He makes grown men cry.”
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