Saint Christopher

Long holiday weekend. Lot of family. Lot of food. It’s over now. Time for the regular life. Until I get another long holiday weekend.
I didn’t post yesterday. Didn’t write one. This may not mean much to you, yet. This means everything to me. I failed a choice I made when I started this blog. Told myself I would post everyday. It was how I was going to get better as a writer. Known as a writer. People can’t read what’s not written. They’re not superheroes. I messed up. Is it over?
No.
If I’m not sleeping or doing something I’ll be reading or writing. Stretch out to fiction and poetry. Advice columns. Screenplays. Doesn’t matter if its good or bad. It’s about challenge. Growing. Developing. Stretching. Not everything will be posted. Something will. I’m committing myself to a life of writing.
Just got back to NYC. Got a sick feeling in my stomach. Not looking forward to going back to work today. I’m done with this job. Time to transition. That means quit. Hitting the bridge. The sickness is growing.
It’s becoming easier to write and speak the truth. I don’t think myself a constant, grand liar. I do hold my tongue a lot.
My supervisor must not have gotten what he wanted for Christmas. He’s in a foul mood. Not helping my sickness. I tell my girl if I don’t kill him or quit I must be a saint.
Lunchtime. I nominate myself for sainthood. Day isn’t over yet though…

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