You know you've gone completely, geekily crazy when, having received a challenge from an old (we were 10? 11? ... !!) friend which dares you to "respond in graduate school level essay form only," you actually do so.
That was rather cheeky of me, wasn't it, sending you slices of my dissertation proposal and of a paper I've sent out for conferences with a letter squished between paragraphs? As though I'd spent hours and hours on the letter I sent you, when, really, all I did was take some beginnings and a bit from the middle (and that tiny end bit) and smash them together, as though they fit (oddly, they sort of did); as though, when you asked how the heck I'm doing, what you meant was: how is your work going?
I remember singing during recess. Trying to swear so I'd look cool. Trying to write a story as long as yours. Admiring your "wandering aimlessly" and then using it myself. When you and Andy hated each other.
If you write back, I'll try to respond like a normal person. No guarantees. I'm not sure I'm anything like normal.