I don’t need to open this with some nonsense about how the pandemic has mentally effected us, about how it’s distorted time and nostalgia in our desperate cravings for normalcy again. About how we’re re-watching Recess on Disney+ because last year and 2001 feel like the same distance from normal in this weird alternate reality we’re living in, right?
I want to visit my hometown.
Really, Really badly.
Is that notion intermingled with how much I miss my family who I haven’t seen in sixteen months? Maybe. Or maybe it’s because I dream of going to Masonville mall way…
Many of you know of the orange and blue box that decorates cupboards across the country. An easy to whip up dinner/lunch/late night snack/horrifying breakfast choice that is a staple in the North American kitchen. Arguably a dietary/budget-conscience necessity for college students.A very standard meal where the only thing that changes from box to box is the price. Sold anywhere between 0.89 cents and 1.50 depending on where you buy it.
I have had Kraft Dinner many many times in my life, allowing me to self-qualify as an expert. Professional opinion? It’s good by itself, it’s good with little chopped…
So, this month is the National Write a Novel in a Month…Month.
And I am participating again. As I have for the past three years. After a friend turned me onto it while I was only partially employed and sensed I needed some form of structure in my life. I started a day late, which might give you an idea of where my mental state was at, and already pretty ready to abandon it as I sat down in a Starbucks with a pike roast to GET TO WRITING (You know, like all the greats do).
50,000 words seems insurmountable…
I spend most of the day at work, frustrated.
There’s a lot of new obstacles to working in Hell’s Kitchen right now. And it seems every day the barriers shift and change, depending on what is deemed necessary for budget and safety. I’m on a double, so that’s a long day. Working in 94 degrees weather, 12 hours in a cotton mask. 13 if you include the train I take to and from work.
I get to work, wash my hands, and start setting up our new patio. We have huge plastic screen dividers that must be carried out every…
Giving up on Anonymity