I’m a woman of my word. I promised my friend J.P. I would type up the article that sealed our fates. I can't do the story justice on my post, but I'll give my best effort. Though I grumble and roll my eyes, I love it when J.P. tells our story. She has the best voice and facial expressions, and she’s all energy. It’s great. Truly. I hope all of you have a friend who can tell a story with such energy. I also hope you have a friend who believes in your writing . . . even if she risks looking delusional. J
It was March 9, 1993 when the story below hit the newsstands at the
Somewhere on campus, J.P. read the article. Fast forward two plus years, I’m a journalism AND psychology major. I found journalism classes too easy (I had a 4.0 in the major) and I was tired of fighting with egos in the newsroom. J.P. and I were in a psychology class together. One day we were talking about this and that when I mentioned my history with the university paper. Then I mentioned my car. The conversation stopped. She said, “Wait. You wrote for the Shorthorn? You wrote a story about your car a few years ago?” “Yep.” “I loved that story.” She proceeded to quote lines from it. I know, right? So needless to say we became great friends. J Per her request, I’m dusting off the story that brought us together seventeen years ago.
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