Thursday, May 7, 2009

I am Busy Writing Not Eating

I love the life of a writer. I watched my father sit at the computer and write books. There is pride in accomplishment, but what is the cost? A loss of a connection to the family. The document is more important. This is the one, boy, we are going to be rich. I would have rather something else mattered than your ego's development Dad. The attention I got was being told in a controling manner who I was to be. When I started cooking in High School, it was met with so much bull-shit. I was going no where, well, I didn't plan on it. I wanted to be independent like my big sister, but I needed people more than she.

The funny thing is that I have cooked deliciousness that my Dad would have never tasted if I hadn't gained the skills that I was good at and enjoyed. That guy should have put down the pen and paper and taken on a cooking class-for the rest of our sakes. I am writing right now thinking about food, but I don't or haven't been giving it much time. This is a paradox in my life, to help feed those around me or to do some homework. I will sigh now as if writing about food is good enough to feed me. My hunger grows and now I don't want to prepare anything.

Maybe I will print this out and eat it for dinner.

1 comment:

  1. Nice writing. I like how you ended this heavy post with the comical suggestion of eating it for dinner, although I would recommend against it. A dude in my high school calculus class accomplished this once (for what reason I don't remember) and he was miserable afterwards.

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