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Not much to write except I wasn't joking about getting myself out there. Now if I could just learn how to use social media.

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Not So Successful With Finding A Writing Contest To Enter

The idea of entering into a writing contest has peeked my interest over the course of the last few months. I know I have to get some writing out there, the rejection will be good for the soul. So far I have had a publisher actually contact me back, I didn't go further with them because they seemed a bit sketch. They required that I have an artist draw up some images for the children's book I wrote. Obviously they offered to find me someone but there would be a fee. NO THANK YOU!

While I shop around for my children's book and see if it has some legs I am going to continue searching the internet for literary contests and see if I have some talent or just chasing a dream. I didn't want to leave this post with nothing so I am going to share what would have been my entry into a what they referred to as a flash story (150 words exactly). FYI I didn't enter, you have to be a member to enter for free, and to be a member it was $99. The prize was $100, sounds like my net profit would have been $1 if I won. (please refer to earlier image)

"The Math Problem"

Who could possibly love math? Numbers twisted at the whim of a tyrannical puppet master. Whose sole purpose is to make you find the multiple variations of the letter X. You truly are my worst enemy in all things, logical. My pencil hits the paper, only to be followed by eraser leaving more room for me to mistakenly solve for the wrong variable. This ever churning cycle of madness is what I along with the other citizens of room 406 refer to as 3rd period. It has been said that the true definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. I hope that one day I can reflect on this class and think to myself this was truly necessary. The problem at this moment is all I can think about is how much I'd rather be eating gross cafeteria food at lunch.

Hello Me, This Is the Story Of You.

Why is it my fault? How do I blame myself time and time again? I want to be better but there is no end in sight. I am sinking in thought and my only life raft has been drifting away. An overbearing wave of my own creation is drowning me. Am I at fault? Is this me? Am I the puppet or the master? Fuck it, I am going to be the one to find out. Walk with me and listen, and please Don't Interrupt. You need to hear this, "Hello me, the is the story of you."

As I get older, it has become increasingly hard to remember past moments. My memory could once be compared to a loud roaring boom, now its a meek whisper of its former self. A friend told me the best solution to this would be to start writing things down. For $3.74 one can keep a lifetime of memories, or at least 100 pages worth. I think this was the beginning of how I kept some semblance of sanity in my day to day, it was a way for me to lock it up somewhere. Not to say my thoughts were prisoners and the composition notebook was their confinement. That would be too dark of a thought for even me. Its a better comparison to say they were my treasures and I put them into safe keeping as to never lose them or have them stolen away. 

Journal 1

I have a tendency of being a bit of a soft shell with an extremely squishy inside. I wish I could say I used to be rough around the edges but that just isn't the case. Before I can really get into today I am going to take a step back to an incident in the fourth grade. It was in Mr. Bachus' class, I can't remember if it was reading or math. You see the way the classes used to work in Parkway Elementary school was that you had a homeroom teacher and you had about 5 other classes for other subjects. Thinking back I think they picked the classes out of random, it sure didn't feel like they all held any value whatsoever. Either way there was this girl, M. Santos, she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. At the time I am sure I have never been more attracted to anyone else, partially because I had actually never been attracted to anyone before her. I am not sure what she was, could have been Dominican or Puerto Rican, but she was a beauty. She used to have her hair slicked back and tied into a pony tail and I used to always wonder how she got it to stay down like that. Pretty sure as I got older I found out it was products, why did a 9 year old use products? Who knows, it was Miami and we had an over abundance of what was referred to as chongas. At the end of the day  I was in love, at least I think, because I damn sure as hell got my heart broken. Being young, you do really stupid things because you watch TV and it makes it seem like it's okay. Like the primetime dramas you used to watch were the rule books to life, being my age and watching them I felt like I was getting the cheat sheet on relationships. I remember walking into, lets say reading class, and I found an earring on the ground.  I would love to sugar coat this story and say that it was a pair, but no it was one damn earring. That thing was as lonely as me and my dumb ass came up with the brightest of bright ideas. I can only imagine how that internal conversation went "Why not give her the earring as a gift, say you bought it for her and that you want to know if she wants to be your girlfriend for it." As I write this I want to slap myself. So you know what I did? I took my own advice, wrote her a note that read 

Do you like me:     

Yes 

No

Walking up to her was the scariest thing that I had ever experienced. My palms were drenched and the paper took some of that moisture as its own, losing its crisp edges for a less than perfect line. Every step to her desk was daunting and being in the eye line of every classmate didn't help matters at all. Gravity seemed to have taken hold of me and no matter how hard I tried to reach out my hand to Santos it was to absolutely no avail. I wasn't aware at that time that it would be my origin story for how I got my super power "Social Failure," my weakness was clearly all things social. I clenched my fist and retreated back to my secret lair, the opposite side of the room she was on. I had friend, at least I think I did, he had nice eyes. Green eyes, that's it, Corey was his name. He was one of the craziest white boys you could ever meet, and he was my first best friend. He saw I was struggling and walked over to me. "Whats wrong with you, did you forget your homework?" He grabbed my shoulder and held it rather firmly. My response times were a bit delayed and with each passing second his grip got tighter. It might have been okay but he had huge hands so before it got painful I had to intervene with words. I looked to my left and he had that stupid big smile looking back at me waiting for me to open the flood gates. "I had this earring for Santos with a note, and I couldn't give it to her." Man that stupid grin is all I can see right now, my heart sunk a little because it got even bigger. "You like Santos?!" He released his death grip on my shoulder to cover up his stupid grin. I pulled him to the side and told him very politely to "SHUT UP!" It wasn't polite at all. Of course the more I fed into his excitement the more he hungered for more entertainment. Not sure if it is normal for kids to be able to cackle, but I am sure I remember a crazy white boy cackle. I'd love to say that this is something that is very prevalent at that age but immaturity is a stain on the male species, I can say that because I am a card wielding member of the club.


After about another 15 minutes of berating me, he offered up some advice that was actually amazing then "Why don't you give it to one of her friends so you don't have too." That white boy was a genius! The bell rang and it was lunch time, I had to not only find the perfect accomplice to operation earring, but I had to make sure I got chocolate milk before it ran out. Elementary school could be very stressful, but chocolate milk at lunch was its saving grace. So as I chugged away at my chocolate milk, Corey was crumpling up his whole milk. His mom lied to him and told him that milk helps make you smarter, that idiot used to drink it before every meal because of that. "Okay, I think you should give it to Cynthia Brown. She sits right next to her and she is a huge romantic. Kyle was saying the other day that..." Kyle has absolutely no bearing on this story, and I prefer not to remember that kid in a any positive light. After lunch I had only 2 more periods of classes left and I had to enact my plan by using Cynthia. If Corey came up with the idea after inhaling his brain juice, what could go wrong right? Oddly enough it was everything, but hindsight being what it is I had no idea what I was in for. I brought my gift and note to Cynthia and explained to her very eloquently how I wanted to make Santos my gf and I got her this earring to do just that. Without any hesitation she rushed it over to Santos and I felt nothing but dread. There was nothing amazing about watching her take my charge, it wasn't a moment of elation at all for me. It was to late, the deed was done, but even at that age I knew pain was coming, and yet I looked at Corey's shitty grin and felt hope. I don't even know what Mr. Bachus was talking about during that period and it didn't matter, my gaze was barely ever on him but on Santos and the 3 girls she was whispering too the entire time. My senses were at the top of their game, and I felt like I could hear a pin drop within the 600 square feet of the classroom. I could see Santos lips as she was talking among her peers and to this day I swear I knew what she was saying. "What should I say?" her finger traced the outline of the earring and she smiled. I was assured total victory, she obviously liked the gift. Watching her scribe her response was utter bliss because I held onto some hope that someone would want to be with me. It was a simple check box response and when I saw that she was writing for 3 seconds I knew she put an extra little something in there for me. When the period ended Cynthia walked over to me smiling and put Santos' response into my hand. It was odd because the paper had some heft to it, Mr Bachus glared at me as I received it but I stealthily maneuvered it into the space within my desk. When his watchful eye moved onto another part of the room I pulled out the note and heard a clink on the ground. I was going to look down but Corey kicked me to attention as I had Mr. Bachus standing over me. He took the note from me, reading the content within it. He shook his head and tossed it into the waste bin next to his desk.
I looked over to Corey and he shrugged his shoulders, it was like he said a whole sentence with that simple gesture. I like to think it went along the lines of "Sorry man I tried to warn you," he should have been quicker. If I thought watching Santos talk about the note and waiting for her response was brutal, staring at the waste bin at my prize was even more gut wrenching. Its a common phenomenon, no matter if it is school or work, when you want things to happen faster they don't. Its as if time slows in opposition of your desires, just to spite you. I spent almost 10 years not paying attention to what Mr. Bachus was saying. I stared at that waste bin and waited for the bell to ring so I could dart to it. My death stare only wavered when Corey kicked me again to mouth "What did it say?" I responded with the same shoulder shrug he gave me but it had a different context, the classic "I don't know!" As I was turning back around to the waste bin I felt something prick my ankle, I reached down to see what it was and I wound up picking up the earring I gave to Santos. My confusion in that moment was my downfall. The bell rang and I raced to the waste bin to collect what was mine, accidentally bumping into Kyle on my way. I didn't understand why the bin was empty, I watched Mr. Bachus toss it into the bin next to his desk. I didn't even have a chance to contemplate the multiple scenarios for where the note could have ended up before I heard laughter and my name. Stuck to Mr. Bachus special events board was my note. I felt just as heavy as I did when I initially tried to give Santos the note, because everyone in the class including the teacher had seen the note. All of my classmates made an effort to stop at the board before lugging their backpacks on them before the walked out the classroom. Corey snatched the note of the board and brought it to me and I felt everything shatter around me. The note had an extra line with words added by Santos.

Do you like me:     

Yes 

No

HELL NO 

I have always said this as it has been proven countless times during our existence, kids are cruel.

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things!

I talked a big game last time and I didn't do much to follow through. That's the problem with public declarations, people expect something from you. When people expect you to do something the pressure can get to you. Well the pressure cooker is on and I need to be ready, willing, and able to take the heat.