*under the cut is a story that’s just seven words longer than the title! maybe that’s cheating but it was fun writing this! and when I say fun I mean it’s a good day for writing about guilt*
I’ve been thinking about NaNoWriMo for months – and trying to convince myself to do it.
I think I have a lot of good reasons not to: it’s a huge time commitment, I don’t have time with my teaching and homework and grading and life, it’s a waste of time that I could spend writing poetry for my thesis (that I haven’t started).
Yesterday I was working the self check out registers at Home Depot. There are four machines, and a few were in use so I was standing at my post near the main computer – ready to help when something inevitably goes wrong, and to smile at the customers entering the store.
My relationship with my Grammy is not the strongest, most patient relationship. I think she’s very high strung, and demanding. She complains about being in pain a lot, and it makes me frustrated. I don’t always think kindly about her, even though I know that her depression and physical pains makes it hard for her to be the type of grandmother I think I want. I know she loves me, and I appreciate the things she does for me – but sometimes I just want her to leave me alone.
I am a biracial woman. Bi-racial. Bi-sexual. There are many hyphens in my life. Mexican-American. This-and-that.