Being 1st-generation immigrants and all, my family doesn't really celebrate Thanksgiving. So instead of going home and letting my brain atrophy by watching 16 hours of TV nonstop, I've decided to stay in my apartment and write all day. I am *so* close to finishing the first part (of three) of my novel. In my spare time, I jump from lj page to lj
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I have dinner plans with my dad today. But boy do i have to kick my ass into drive to continue writing. I am SUPPOSE to be writing a memoir...
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