A post for now

The topic? Creative writing. Even more specific, mine.

Entitled “Awake”

Pasty plaster textured ceiling. BUZZ Buzz buzz. Alarm clock. 8:01AM. 8:01AM? Shit shit shit. Have to get to work. Late on my first day. Gonna get fired for sure. Blue shirt? No time to choose. Shower? I smell fine. Pants? Pleated. Belt? Leather. Socks? Gray. Shoes? Brown. Watch? Wrist.
Oh god, the taste bud melting aroma of my wife’s cooking. “Want some bacon, sausage and eggs? It’s fantastic.” What a damn day to be tempted by fantastic food.
“No time, in a rush.” Where are my keys? Damn, I don’t know. I check the time. 8:09AM.
“Don’t forget a tie.” Holy crap, a tie? The glinting gold one. Ancient end table. My keys. To the garage. Great, the garage and that door. He always looks so depressed. So shut down. No matter how much I press his buttons his response is slow and sad. Open faster you damned aluminum sloth. I don’t have time for your moaning and creaking life stories. Which car? The blue speed-demon or the black behemoth? Obvious choice. I need greedy, remorseless speed. Now the garage door is finally open. Time. 8:16AM.
Gotta get to work fast. Ignition. Reverse. Almost got the mailbox. That was a real bump. Drive. Rear view mirror. I hit the neighbors’ dog. Floored it, forty in a fifteen flying towards the freeway. Frighten fellow drivers as I go faster. Ah, the freeway. Almost at work. Maybe they will just chop an arm off instead of firing me. Oh shit, four lanes over from my exit. Almost hit five cars as I drove one-sixth of a mile to the exit. Exit ramp. Success.  Time. 8:27AM.
Traffic seems a little too light for this time of morning. Good for me. Can get to work a little less impeded. The stop light is red? You’ve got to be kidding me. There isn’t a car around for blocks. Can relax to some music while I wait. Click. Click. Click. Click click click. The radio won’t come on? Time. 8:33AM. Why hasn’t this light changed yet? This is ridiculous. Can see the Grinson-Maplex building from here. It’s pretty daunting even from three-fourths of a mile away. Light needs to change. Radio needs to work. This is one big joke, it has to be. Stupid alarm clock, it should have went off. The light changed, there is a god. Time. 8:35AM.
Empty stretch of road all the way to the building. It’s insane how huge this building is. I work for these people? Maybe not, so late on my first day. This parking lot seems very friendly. For a parking lot. Wait, oh god it’s becoming less friendly by the second. Not a parking spot around for yards. So late, need a spot now. Time. 8:40AM. Circling the lot, can’t find a spot, losing my mind as my brain rots. Oh god looking for a spot is driving me mad towards rhyming. At last a spot. Salvation. Park the car. Uneven, of course. Grab the keys. I’m an explosion from the speed-demon. Land on my feet running. Can’t run too fast. Could trip and ruin my clothes before work. Time. 8:44AM. There’s the front door. Hand. Handle. Hopeful. I’m inside.
“You must be the new guy. I’m Mr. Grinson. I’m one of your new bosses. First days made me feel so small. I hope that doesn’t happen to you. By the way, nice job to show up early on your first day.”
“Early? I swear my alarm clock went off at 8:01AM this morning. I’m so late.” Confusion. He starts to laugh and I laugh with him. Cautiously.
“Forgot to set your clock back for daylight savings time.”
Daylight savings time? You have got to be kidding me. I’m going to destroy that alarm clock.

Autobiography

The truth:

I was born in Beeville, TX, then moved to New Jersey when I was a month old, then to Virginia Beach, Virginia, then to Lexington Park, Maryland, then Hollywood, Maryland, then Smithfield, Virginia, then San Jose, California, then San Diego, California, then Meridian, Mississippi, then Patuxent River, Maryland, then Houston, Texas, then to Richardson, Texas.

The not truth:

I am a polar bear. I eat penguins for a living. I got into a fight with Bob Dole one time, well, two times but the second time he didn’t even hit me.

The take a guess at it’s truthfullness:

I own 3 penguins, Cristy, Andrew, and my newest penguin, the Toll Penguin. I am allergic to almost everything ever, so many things in fact that I’ve had a person draw a katamari of all the things I am allergic to. I have a screw in my right foot.

Numbers:

72 inches, 10 fingers, 10 toes, 2 shoes, like 20 socks, 16 SNES games, 15 N64 games, about 14 360 games, about 10 Wii games, 9 team fortress 2 classes, 18 hours of classes, 19.5 hours of work each week, 89 credit hours, 1 bed, 3 pillows, 3 windows in my room.

Specifics:

ATEC major, Creative Writing minor. I want to most likely teach things about writing for a living. Oh, I dislike reading books, it’s boring. Fantasy books, even worse than normal books. Sci-fi books, just as bad as fantasy books.

A poem:

I have love for you,
A sweet translucent goo,
This palmful of nuclear waste,
It’s the thought that counts,
Not the taste.

This red goo in a jar,
Sits in the cupboard,
Next to the box of crunchy frosted clichés,
But since I have love for you,
Does that mean that
I -Jar of Red Goo- You?

It’s the expensive chic style,
That costs 42.99 a pair,
At Victoria’s Secret.

Indeed, I must tell you,
That I have love for you,
But I left it in my other pants.