That's this.
That's what I'm writing in.
I guess I could make some metanarrative or metacontextual joke here, but I really don't want to.
Come to think of it, this might not translate well to an online format-- and here I am, doing the exact thing I said I didn't want to.
Well, too late now, I've already filled a third of the page. Best I can do is treat this prompt as a journal entry.
I've got 2 hours and 13 minutes until work ends, or a half-hour less depending on how my bosses stick to the schedule. And Christ's sake, I'm bored. I edited through 2 interviews, and even after having lunch, I'm too burnt out to work on anything else. I have a bunch of other projects to work on, but since they're so open-ended in comparison to the interview edits, they require an amount of creative energy that I just don't have right now.
Oh yeah- and then there's that project about the Williamsburg Bridge. I have to interview somebody about something relating to it, but I really don't know who. Even the professor I talked to didn't give any hints as to who would be a good kind of person to talk to. Considering the project is all about themes of life and death, I guess just about anyone will do.
Okay, I've met the page length.