Ramble: There’s Plenty

I know I’ve said this no less than a million times, but I wish there was more time for writing. There has been several books, near nervous breakdowns, snoring, new clothes, paychecks, happy hour drinks, and miserable trips on public transportation, and my little hater telling me not to work out (jay smooth reference). There has been plenty and still not enough laughter, fresh air, irresponsibility, not enough being 22.

I’m just taking on a lot right now. The idea of transferring schools my senior year, abandoning a career and struggling to start a new one. Right now there is no room for the good stuff. The great stuff. The stuff you want snapped into a facebook photo album or the stuff you blog about. Its missing and I’m sorry if this is repetitive or boring but this is my reality.

What I wouldn’t give to be annoyed by Ms. Piggy right now than the man with the never ending tear and his cheese nibbling rat faced wife and there terribly unattractive children. What am I to do? …besides look for a new job, which I’m doing and pray that Obama gets elected, and eat coffee cakes and drink pineapple juice (my new addiction). And the other kids…who should no so much more and are so complacent and so un-motivated. I try to teach them what I know. I can only do so much with limited resources but why break my back when they don’t even put in a quarter of the effort. I know I should. I can only imagine the type of frustrating asshole I was at 15. Or 16. Or 17. Hell even at 22.

I miss the non fall that was North Carolina. Drinking until you slobber and spending the next day in the library doing research and re-capping. I miss the name call, the run, the jump, and the embrace of a friend that has only not seen you in 8 hours.

I miss the potential loving I could be on the receiving end of right now. L

WHY…O’ WHY????

I need a drink and a drinking partner. I tried to audition my mom for the position. She’s no fun. A for effort but an F for actual drinking ability, and going to happy hour alone is sad. But the bartender is F’in cool. Her body art is like a maze that grey goose makes me chase. I sit and watch her arms and pretend to watch some pointless sports show. Because its creepy to have some slightly tipsy guy with a bus pass look you up and down. Then again, it’s not my fault her tattoos rock.

And I love dress socks, except when they make you fall on the kitchen floor at 5:15 in the morning.

I hate teaching. I don’t like it. God Bless those who do. I’m glad I got out when I did. Well, I’m not completely out yet. But damn it I’m close.

I do like ties.

And hot tea.

And Jazmine Sullivan.

Anyone wanna be my friend?

Maybe once or twice a week to have a drink and listen to me make fun of my students.

I promise I’m awesome and full of jokes.

We’ll have fun.

Maybe not…



Still Here,



KD