nccotus

So, it was all a mix up about the boy friend at Harvard on the outs in Autumn ’81 after a 2 year relationship, and my special computer program that generated essays on input poetry; endorsed by my section leader he said that would be incredible!.

so I did it to the enth if my n powers infinitely nested loops, or it felt that way. The hardest part was creating the sentence fragments 4 different possibilities for each part of the sentence so that they all meshed together with the answer fragments perfectly just like banking software today.

the looping was really arduous.

so, then, I was met with the offer to run for President of the undergraduate, literary magazine and it was desperate over this. Boyfriend M. said he would love to watch the magazine go down under me! I was shocked. I was still trying to figure out how to get out of it and figure a different course. Same with the letter from the computer programming course I was offered a teaching position based on my program and I wasn’t up to it.

I was already thinking of taking a leave of a absence.

but I couldn’t have gone home to my parents house.

so my father put the yes word in there about the literary magazine and there was really no escaping it after that. Although I didn’t realize this at the time.

I instantly lost the writer in my soul over this; and became the organizational manager of the building and meetings, setting up mailboxes and taking minutes of meetings. Bought an embarrassing coffee pot. I stated that I wanted to go into publishing and became lost and confused. I wanted out but there was noone to let me out. No go to.

I was not an editor, I was a writer who needed the help of an editor, my writing was compromised through my misunderstood mysterious disability that was sexually impacted; everything was the opposite of what I wanted. And it remains for it to be said if it was a help to anybody else. It all went down in flames at the end of the year. I went home, Got a letter saying the leave of absence was mandatory, 6 months and I didn’t have to work. I was in shame. That’s how I felt.

yesterday I finally felt that stranglehold on the writer in me release. From where I was compromised when I stepped into the role as “figurehead ” as President of the Harvard Advocate 1982. That’s how it played out.

it was the most pleasurable moment of my life.

the Lord is assuring m e that I will be able to write now, these mysterious disabilities have been resolved now. And through all this ai have a wealth of experience to play against. At that age–before age 20–i wrote about gigantic yellow parakeets and a homeless writer who pursued me at the dining hall and my coffee shop and the like.

it took a lot for me to connect with…God, for one thing and all that. And to lose my sarcasm and find out about Love. There were some physical impediments involved here, the broken and then decimated pud, the lesion I left of my nose pressing on nerves in my face close to my brain. It took 4 and a half years for me to get used to this last change, when that lesion was removed.

so,it all led to meeting Alex through being downed through the Advocate and how it led to a sick suicidal thrall that persisted until people started trying to harm me and I learned the value of my life.

my skills and experiences came together for me to become a proponent against pro abortionists back in 2018 after flirting around with that for about 15 years.

that is said and done now.

I am working on a new book.

or