Parts of me wonder why I even bother eating anymore. Those are the parts that handle the food I shove into my body. This life of taking pills before eating anything needed to end, I just thought I had more time. And this isn’t one of those eat-bland-foods-for-two-weeks-so-my-body-can-recover deals. This full on Sparta in what I kick out of my daily diet, and what becomes “sometimes” food.

Have You Heard the One About the Priest, the Rabbi, and the Duck?

My coworker and I talked about creative writing professors attempting to have us write like them. I lucked out. Neither Jose Skinner or Rene Saldana, Jr. forced their writing styles on me. Emmy Perez didn’t, either, but there were times when I knew she wanted to sugarcoat my criticisms on my classmates’ writing. Homie doesn’t play that, though.

There was purpose to this blog, finding some sense of place. In my writing and in my life. And maybe I haven’t found the place I’m supposed to be in life, but at the dawn of my thirtieth year on this cesspool planet, I find myself almost comfortable with my place. Granted that I’m not where I imagined myself at thirty, but who is? I’ve made peace with my demons, amongst other things.

When Was the Last Time I Did This?

Work was a breeze, though I have to start making up hours tomorrow, Monday, and Tuesday (yay! Part time!). Which ultimately means less time with my son. But there are times when you just have to take that day out. Funny story about yesterday’s illness. It actually started on Monday, as I left the department. The sudden urge to up chuck rose from my innards. There are things I do to keep my mind distracted, so I started doing one. Yesterday’s decision was scanning all the titles from the local authors’ shelf, memorizing each of them. After a while, my focused aimed on a girl whose direction I’d been gawking at for I don’t know how long. This girl–woman–was staring daggers at me. Well, long enough for her egocentric mind to think I was checking her out. And at that moment, I felt the rising urge to spew all over the couch. Had it not been my respect and admiration for Mr. Cortez (who’d have to clean it up), I might have done just that to bring her down several pegs.

Closing Arguments

I’m happy that my friend has stumbled out of hiding after all these years of dead air. And I will kick your butt to update more often.

 

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