Aug 19.

8/19/2025 7:16. Correspondence 4

I know, I know, I'm writing this awfully early. Sue me. Don't actually. But hey, I just want to chill tonight. Maybe play a video game or watch a movie or read some comics, I don't know. Hey, don't call me lazy, I've been working hard. It was the first day of class for me. It was magical. I probably had more fun and excitement today than at any school event or party. A healthy dose of anxiety and fear, yes, but also so much curiosity and excitement. I love learning. I love selfbetterment. I felt truly at home, I felt truly at peace. My professors also. Wow. I don't want to jump any guns, but first impressions at least are true chefs' kisses. Mwah Mwah Mwah Mwah. I am genuinely excited about going back to class. It is a nice feeling. 

I took a walk to the fitness center today. It was so impressive, I felt so intimidated. I would love to get involved more with some aspect of it. I mean, there is a massive rock wall, a massive pool, two massive gyms, a full walking/running track on the top floor, bookable squash rooms, and so much more. As I was wandering around, though, my dress clothes started to feel more and more uncomfortable. I, at one point, took a step up to this bike machine and was going to pedal for a bit, but then my black dress pants and button-up finally consumed my mind. I realized, for the first time in my life, I don't have a single pair of athletic attire. I know I've been told that many times, but it truly sank in during my time in that fitness center. Half of me wants to do something about that. Maybe go out tomorrow and get some sweatpants or gym shorts, and make a bit of a gym routine. The other half is so out of that element, though, it doesn't even recognize the other. Where would I even begin? I feel so out of place in those clothes. So uncomfortable and vulnerable. Not sure what to do about that exactly. Just something I'll grapple with a little while longer, probably.  

Wow, I am like a comma machine today, huh? Let me control F commas and see what happens. THIRTY. Whoaly smokes. That's a lot of commas.  I'm not even completely done yet. This is not professional writing, I will tell you that. Both my journalism professors would throw up if they saw this. Thursday, in my writing for mass coms class, we are supposedly going over a list of grammar and writing sins. I am frankly scared of what I will find in that list when cross-referenced with this project. It will be interesting to see how my writing style changes and evolves while taking these classes. Every hallmark of journalistic writing this is not, and I know and acknowledge that.  This project is informal, expressive, long-winded, flowery, and extraordinarily biased. Hard not to be when it's about me. Maybe sometime, a few weeks into class, I will try to write about myself in an unbiased, efficient way. through a web journalistic eye. 

What's the comma count now, computer? FOURTY THREE. By god. Hopefully, tomorrow I will rein that in. 

Thank you all and goodnight.

Calvin Landreth