25

I'm sorry to have not written as much. (I don't know exactly to whom I'm apologizing. Whether it's to myself or you reader.) My perfectionism and my reticence to blog about my everyday bullshit keep this place rarely updated. I figure I'll just start typing and see what comes out.

I visited my mom. I have a gnarly cough and a pair of earrings for my efforts. She has a cat. I'm allergic to cats. The more time I spend in her house the shallower my breaths become. It did provide a convenient reason for why I had to leave. The earrings are a family heirloom, brought by my great-grandmother on the boat from Russia. When I was there I put them on, "Wow they're pretty" I said. "Well, you can have them when you're 25" she replied. Pause. "Mom, I am 25" She laughs, "Really?" I think back to my roommate commenting on her forgetting my birthday. "You think because it involved her she would remember"

I am craving fried chicken, sweet plantains, red beans, and yellow rice from the restaurant up the street. So good.

I recently heard a man say that you owe it to yourself to build the best life for yourself possible. I've been rambling on and on in my own life about going back to school. One fear about it is that I wouldn't be a good student. Today I was going through college notes and was shocked to realize that I was a good student.

Okay, I'm gonna go get me some chicken.