What I think about

Single Thoughts

I’ve said the words “I love you” to three different women, other than family members, and they’ve all said it back to me. At that time I was expressing what I believed to be that elusive feeling that every human being yearns for. In the past, I thought of love to be this everlasting feeling of ecstasy that two people shared, which is always how it starts off to be, but, here I am, single. It makes me wonder if what I was feeling was even real love to begin with.

I grew up idolizing relationships like Corey and Topanga’s or Martin and Gina’s where laughter and intimacy outweighed the arguments and miscommunication. Daydreams still, to this day, plague me about what it would be like to fall in love with a best friend and it’s funny because these subconscious desire usually manifest as fictional characters in stories I write.

I’ll consider this bachelor status of mine as both a blessing and an opportunity to prepare myself for the best friend that I’ll be meeting pretty soon. We’re basically characters in God’s romance-comedy novel and, right now, I’m getting closer to the climax.



I’ve never been rained on like this

Still soaking in the uncertainty

Droplets seemed to hit

The only part of my heart left umbrella-less

Exposed to a weather that isn’t as romantic

As it used to be

What do you do when you run out of what was

And the only thing left

Is the echo that didn’t used to be here?

What I think about

Not Working!

Let me start by saying that I HATE WORKING. Just hearing the word “work” makes me throw up just a little bit in my mouth. There’s so much writing I could be doing 8 hours a day but instead, I’m submitting the majority of my energy to someone else’s dream. My body sometimes feels like a prison, and the prisoner is the formless desire trapped inside waiting on 5′ o’ clock so that it can go out into the yard. That’s where the freedom is and the reason I don’t get much sleep.

I’m in a struggle between my passion and my priority. My passion is transporting the creative part of my brain onto notebook paper or onto a computer screen like I’m doing now. My priority, on the other hand, is a beautiful 3 year girl that I’m genetically and emotionally attached to. Now we all know how the writing life goes:  you write a lot and get paid very little until the literary gods deem you worthy of a publishing contract. Or if you’re the chosen one, the gods adapt your novel into a movie.  But even then, you still may suck financially for awhile.

So what do you do?

I’m not really sure. My emotional side wants me to come into work tomorrow, on time and overdressed, just to tell my coaches, supervisors and managers to go fuck themselves. That would be an excellent decision if I wasn’t responsible for another human being. Therefore, my logical side would rather me continue earning money from the Devil in order to make sure my daughter doesn’t have to suffer.

This is what I’ve learned: the only way I will be able to get out of this slave ship disguised as a call center is to hone my writing skills to the point where I’m able to earn more from writing than from backstabbing my fellow earthlings. It’s all about balance which is necessary in just about everything. If I’m able to balance my passion and priority, eventually I’ll be able to fuse the two and live happily as a successful writer and father.

But until then, you can find me in the corner of my favorite bar after work. I’ll either be writing or pretending to be writing in order to look like a writer. Because, ya’ know, that’s what writers do.




What will it take?
To awake from the dream where
Everything seems to be safe
But really isn’t

A place where
So many “isms”
Handcuff us to mental prisons
To be this way!

Liberties being taken away
Day by day
Piece by piece
Making peace an impossible necessity

Our pedigree
Provided blueprints
For building character, not ignorance
These days,
The innocent have to submit to terrorists
That we voted for

Words like Moor
Don’t ring a bell anymore because
We’ve forgotten the lost art
Of thinking for ourselves

We allow media to force feed us
Greed and other “needs”
For things that really don’t have any value

Some of us have no clue
As to what’s going on RIGHT NOW:
The toughest parts of our history
Are plowing its way back through

What will it take for YOU
To awake from the dream where
Everything seems to be safe
But isn’t?