Eleventy quibillion years ago, when I was in fourth grade, I wanted to be a
writer. I wrote terrible poems, which I think only got worse as I got older and
the teenage years descended like locusts, leaving only WOE and ANGST. By
college, I had brief bouts of sanity, whereupon I attempted architecture
(ohmyGod, they do not tell you about the math), business (my first accounting
teacher gave me the final exam in advance, with the answers, if I would swear
to her I would never, ever, take another accounting class again), and then
journalism (where I learned they had the picky little annoying habit of wanting
reporters to not make crap up)(this was before Fox News).
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