Work Text:
To: [email protected]
Subject: Week 40: "This will get lost in your inbox."
Email time! Email time! Huzzah!
As title suggests: it's Week 40 as of writing, and all hope may be lost—but see, Eli, I've been thinking... more than I've thought for this week alone, really.
See, I can't help it that I think too much. Too much! Like, Hello, 'tis I, Executive Dysfunction's not-so-distant cousin Generalized Anxiety Disorder talking! I often have to consult Google to tell me if my palpitations are from downing too much of Red Bull's excessive carbonation and tangy, metal aftertaste. Also tastes like blood from my bleeding gums. I'd say you're a subject expert on that. After much pondering about it, I feel like I should switch back to soft bristles.
Anyway, that's just a quick summary of the usual if you're ever curious.
Some updates laid out for you (and in no way do you have a choice because I've started this draft from the library computer; had to look busy):
- I've switched dorms, finally. The leaking problem can't be fixed; luckily they have a spare room now. It's a little more spacious, spacious enough, but not enough that I'd call it the Deluxe Suite. A bed is a bed and four walls with a view. But on the more entertaining side of things, I might be able to set up my rig somewhere when I go back to the valley.
- Get this: our involvement in Computer Camp earned me credit for this one coding subject I’m taking this Fall. With that I say: you should actually be proud of yourself, Eli. I should be proud of me, but... well. All but a casual yet important reminder for your wins.
- Some girl was totally checking me out at the library today, so I pretended to be as studious as I possibly can because duh. Nerd charm, don't fail me now. No protein shakes needed when you've got a brain that works overtime, 24/7. Biggest flex. (Spoiler: She liked my I'm Code Blooded shirt.)
- I checked my old copy of Python for Dummies and found your rough sketch of Golagath—you know what I'm talking about. I sense you cringing through the screen. One of your campaigns... I would say, 2016? Is that right? It's the third one, the orange orc iteration, a little on the slimmer side than I remembered. We were drunk drunk on Mug. (I've since then sworn off of any root beer in existence.) But looking at it now, you were always one hell of a doodler. I on the other hand was (and will be) your best critic. There was a message on the side that read about my particular comment on warts. Ah, fun times.
You know who's even more fun to have around? Go ahead, guess.
(Hint: it's not me.)
Well, I have about t-minus two hours left to unpack before I'm ejected from my room to socialize at my first House Party. Should you love to know how it goes down, it shall arrive as a lengthy (and sober) email. And tomorrow is reserved for a research spree, see how else I can troubleshoot these lines of code for this game I'm drafting out. In Github we trust. As for the details on what it's about, again: I shall spare you them for another email. You'll love it.
Until then, take care out there, Eli. I'm positive Boston has bars enough to power through a single livestream. You can always call me, my number is still my number. Email is email. Just... don't be a stranger and reply when you can.
Please. Please reply.
Always,
D
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