i rarely ever keep the keyboard smash from my first try because sometimes it looks too intense and other times it looks like an actual word and sometimes it doesn’t really reflect my true feelings i mean keyboard smashing is actually a craft that i take very seriously
and an old man asked if I could scoot a little to the left so his wife could sit next to him (instead of across from him). I was so touched by his cuteness I think I moved over like 2 feet haha
And now they’re chuckling away :’)
- france: ten
- france: twenty
- france: thirty
- france: forty
- france: fifty
- france: sixty
- france: sixty ten
- world: france what are you do—
- france: four twenties
- world: france stop it
- france: four twenties ten
- world: france that doesn't even make any sense
- france: hundred.
ass ass ass ass ass
ass ass ass ass ass ass ass
ass ass ass ass ass
What did I know about my college interviewer before I met her? Simply what her credentials told me. Stanford Law Professor. University of Michigan Law Professor. Bachelor’s in Economics. Harvard Law School. PhD in Physics at Columbia. In my mind, I had already concocted an idea of what she would be like. Stiff, serious, an intellectual. I judged her like how I was afraid she would judge me.
I was proven wrong. She probably used the word “fabulous” 12089 times, accompanied by the dramatic hand gestures. We talked about Sylvia Plath and Othello. She gushed about her friend who designed sets for New York Broadway and her favorite recipes for coffee cake. We talked about Gilmore Girls. Maybe it was the dim coffee shop setting, but at times I caught myself in a haze, just talking naturally and forgetting where I was or what the conversation was for in the first place. (Probably not a good sign). However, mid-conversation, I simply asked her how she went from economics, to law, to physics, to law again. She told me, “You know, I’m really not sure. I just got bored and did what I wanted. And to this day, I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Her honesty came as a shock. This was someone who was in her sixties, who I thought had everything figured out long ago. However, here she was, telling me that she still wasn’t sure about her future.
I guess, somehow, I thought that one day I would realize my place, who I am and who I’ll become. But now I’m just wondering: what if I don’t know now, and what if I never will?