Sunday, August 3, 2008

January 24, 1980

Thursday; I'm 16.

Tim N. thinks I'm going to be a writer.  I tell him that I want to be an astrophysicist, but he's not convinced.  He's really sure that I'm going to be a writer.  I don't know if I have enough writing talent to live off of it.  I do believe that I have some talent for writing (from dad) but do I have enough?  I wouldn't mind being a writer.  It's never too far from my mind.  Tomorrow I'm going to visit mom and Joe in Cleveland.  They're living together.  I don't mind.  I hate what I"m doing now.  As I write this, I compose in my mind what I'm going to write.  Yet half of it never gets written down!  As Gordon Lightfoot says, "If you could read my mind" I've written a whole short story.  For english class.

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