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So I was re-reading my previous entry and I realized how high I sounded. I promise, the only thing I was high on was the power of the written word. Sometimes I get into this literary moment where I'm absorbed into the magnitude of writing and the writer's life and just being a writer, saying I'm a writer -- it puts me in the company of so many amazing people who have changed the world in the craziest ways and I don't know if I'm fit to be a Writer (with the capital w) but I sure as hell know I'm doing everything in my power to be one.

Didn't do too much today, or really I did, but I don't feel like I've got the energy to discuss it all. We're going on a field trip tomorrow to the De Young Museum of Modern Art in San Fran, which should be fun mostly because it's in San Fran. I feel bad because I haven't written to any of the friends (or family!) I said I would write to. It's just that this is so crazy, and I love being here...it's a great feeling. I am high on life. What could be better?

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readingredhead

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