an award

It feels fitting that we’re going to put this little girl who’s coming in EIGHT WEEKS, WHAT? in my office, forcing me to re-think, organize and move all of the work related crap I have accumulated over the last twenty years to make space for her. It’s a real hybrid-tech generation moment, half my life is in scrapbooks and half is in my computer or maybe on my hard drive, where is my hard drive? Maybe in a drawer. I do have a fair amount of Things, things that moved with me from NC to Brooklyn to LA, or maybe my mom shipped them? Such as these fiction writing awards I received in college, I won three of them, and each came with a 25 dollar cash prize nbd. At the time, they meant everything. Today, they accumulate dust and it hurts my old back to lift the stack of them. But I can’t bring myself throw them away, that would feel like I’ve lost touch, or myself. They’re chipped and missing screws. Do I give them to my daughter? Should I be like a Pharaoh and be buried with my Things so that in heaven I can stroke my undergrad writing prizes in a weird sad way? CAN MARIE KONDO COME OVER FOR A THINGS WORKSHOP?

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