Brown Paper Packages Tied Up in String

An old friend gave me some notes on my script over the weekend. They were fucking excellent. I know this because I didn’t get defensive. I didn’t curse her out. I didn’t start picking my face. I knew they were right. It was like having an infection and someone offers you antibiotics. You fucking take them. Great notes are like gold. They’re like a rope ladder, a nest of threads, clouds moving over the moon. Gratitude, Queen.

How well do you take notes?