I tell…

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So today I was at my internship at the museum. I’m usually cooped up upstairs but today I got sick of it and came downstairs. I started talking to the employee who is near my age. We were making a ladybug for a kids program we have. Then we moved into the head lady’s office and talked for like a half an hour. I realized that I tell random stories. I feel like I need to fill the dead space. Sometimes the stories aren’t even relavant. Like I talk about my nephew all the time.

Most of the time I can get around the awkward stories I tell but sometimes I can’t. Leads to some interesting times I really don’t want to talk about now. Now if anyone asks why is this on a blog, you know, I tell random stories.

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About frustratedreader

I'm just an average 20 something female that loses myself in a good book. Life has gotten hectic trying to balance small town living, working towards teaching overseas, finding that special someone and figuring out how life is supposed to work post-college. Thank God for books and knitting!

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