Armed with Cheesecake and Vodka, World Watch Out, I'm Back!

 It was a pleasant day, perfect warm weather, no humidity in the air and no mosquitos. I thought it would be the perfect day to take out the electric bike and go to the store.   It took a bit to get ready, had to make sure I had everything needed in my backpack and the bike was charged up along with my phone.   I took the bike, started it up and was driving out of the little cul d sac we have.  I looked towards my right and saw this thing flying.  It wasn't a bird, but it wasn't a bee either.  It seems to keep up with the speed I was going as if it was racing me.  I swear when I made eye contact with the creature it made a whoo whoo noise like it was reving up its body so it would beat me.  I still hadn't figured out what this creature was.  It was a long beige wormish looking thing and I couldnt see a head.  It was scary looking and I started to panic.  I started to slow down the bike thinking that thing would just fly past me, beaming with pride that it beat someone in a

 I haven't really described the cleaner herself.  Not sure how I want her to be perceived. This is just the first draft of me writing from the cuff.  It does need more meat and when I compare the two I will be able to notice the slight changes as well as major contributions.

  The beeping continued, for hours, as I held her hand.  I didn't have much to say, I didn't know what to say.  The person that raised me was dying and I had not a word.  She didn't know I was there, or who I was for that matter. I just sat there, thinking.  Thinking of times that we had together that were good times.  I know she thinks of those often and chose to forget the bad times. However, the bad outweighed the good, and I didn't understand how she could not remember those times when she did have her wits to her.    I could have flown to her, to be with her longer, but I didn't want to.  It was uncomfortable for me to be there.  I took my time driving cross country, thinking of childhood memories. You know the ones, the memories of running away for the first time, or when your mother told you that you can only call her yes, mother, no mother.  Momma, mommy, mom wasn't in the vocabulary.  Or what about those memories of getting to stay home from school beca

As for me, sounds like my "back to work" date is less than a month away.  I work with the public and wear a uniform.  I serve people food and work for tips basically.  I get along with mostly all of the staff, I'm very easy to enjoy, and I like most people, until they open their mouth, most of the time.  Sometimes these teeny boppers think that the words that come out of their mouth is intellectual property.  I usually listen to them, with open ears, that is until they use more curse words than normal and there isn't a reason for it.  Especially when they do it in front of their boss.  I curse, and my friends curse, but there is a place and time for it.  Anyways.... I have been getting ready to take charge of my job now, so that it isn't such a shock to my system when I actually have to get up prior to 11:00 am!  I have been setting my alarm for 8:00 am every day.  Since my job is open seven days a week, I don't really know the day or days I will have off.

I often look back on my childhood, or rather, lack there of.  I'm not bitter, not by any means.  I wouldn't be the person I am today had I not gone though the trials and tribulations of teenage angst mixed with volatile alcoholic behavior.  My mother, not me.  I wouldn't know how to survive on my own, on the streets or be able to function day to day adult responsibilities at the age of 16.  While other teenagers my age were getting ready for Homecoming and who would claim their virginity that night, or what type of slutty kitten they were going to be for Halloween, I was figuring out hows to balance high school tennis, Drama production of Our Town and still work enough in order to be able to afford my weekly rent.  It was only sixty dollars a week, to live in a boarding rook type hotel, that was above the Bowery Theater on Third and Elm Street, downtown San Diego.  It consisted of a single room with a sink, and a bathroom down the hall which was to be shared with the floor

Today was just an okay day.  When I sit down and allow myself the chance to think, it can be a bad thing. Some days are just  not meant for thinking.  Today was one of those days.  I really needed to feel the water near me.  The intense strength of the waves and knowing what the ocean is capable of, usually puts me in my place.  The beach is a place where I had always felt welcome and safe.  When I lived in San Diego and would run away from home, I would always, always run towards the water.  Even when I was grown up and would run away from relationships or when I didn't want to look at the mirror and see a person that I didn't like, looking back at me, the beach was where I would go.  it was my thing I suppose.  When I would get to the beach, I would put on my headphones and play whatever cassette I had.  I would bring extra batteries and just sit in the sand for hours and listen to music while thinking.  I started this when I was 13 years old, and I have continued to