The odd frustration-envy at reading other people's actually narratively scripted/well writ blogs or journals or letters: I spend so much time trying to order my thoughts into something coherent for work that when I get to a private-type space I have next to no structure. Let the thoughts spill as fast as the fingers can type

If I had to handwrite I expect it would be a vastly different flow, but learning to type *nearly* as fast as one can think definitely changes the writing process.
Opens the post interface to a wave of nostalgia. My goodness, but this interface feels like walking into the childhood home and everything is in its place.

Who would have imagined how ingrained in brain memory a thing like this can become after (?) 10(+?) years.

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