So as I was writing about Joanna Russ over the weekend, I thought it might be cute to find the paragraph of hers I'd mimicked and post it along with my version. So last night I pulled out the ancient folder containing the story I did this for, "Singularities". It smelled of mildew, although the paper all looked clean. Notebook paper with
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Had this recently, reflecting on my career as part of trying to apply for employment by my employer in future. A good outcome of this sort of unanticipated reflection is when it can lead you back not just to remembering how you started instead to do something 'that is a much better fit for who I am' but to feeling grounded in who you now are, and good about that. But I suspect it's normal for the regret (and the nostalgia) to hang around for who you might have been, and how it felt being who you were.
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