all in

I started a short story a couple years ago about a friend of mine who was addicted to playing poker. I really liked where it was going, and had some really awesome moments in it, but in the recent reset of my computer, I inexplicably lost the document. I'm taking a short story class this semester, and was hoping to improve upon what I had already produced, but now it appears I have to start over again. What I have written so far is below. I know it's not much, but I only just began yesterday.

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All In

It’s cold. I’m not, however, surprised by this, and I’ve come prepared for the harshness of the dark winter air. The woolen knit cap affixed to my head rests slightly tilted to one side as it infuriates my scalp. My coat is fur lined and exceptionally warm in any weather, and in evidence of this, tiny beads of salty sweat begin to stain my shirt at the pits. This isolated stretch of land, this solitary stump amidst too much flatness is always cold whenever I come to it.
The walk to the front door is a long one, with many chances to turn away. Many chances to turn away, but far more chances to keep going. The grass along the side of the concrete path is short and brown. Not the kind that couples sit on in Spring. Not a place you’d find children playing, or men and women together enjoying a bottle of merlot. This is no one’s home. And yet…
The building is a depressed brown. No windows let passersby see in or allow lonely occupants to see out. There are no words on the lightless marquee, and the only source of light, two florescent bulbs dangling by a socket on either side of the large front door, flicker as they sway slightly in the enveloping frigidity.
This is no one’s home, and yet here I am again. The lost souls inside were there yesterday, and the day before, and they’ll be there tomorrow and the day after. This is not home, but it resembles something similar. The men and women beyond the metal double doors are not my relatives, and they are not my friends, but they are my brothers and sisters in arms, fighting for their dreams of tomorrow. Not fighting with guns and bombs, but with clubs, and diamonds, and hearts, and spades.


More to come as I write more.

an actual entry this time

i'm coming to the end of my undergraduate career. after many bumps along the road (most of them self inflicted), i am finally going to graduate. my plans for myself through and after college have changed so much in the last six years that i am hardly the same person that i was when i started. i went from being a very mathy geek who wanted to be an actuary and eventually teach college level math, to being an englishy geek with the unfounded notion that i could write noteworthy fiction. that is quite a change i think. i tell people that going from math to english was no big deal, that the skill set is much the same (those are the exact words that i use), but really it was a huge deal. i had spent so much time doing just math, and then i had to take all my prereqs for english in just one semester in order to be able to graduate "on time." i always had a lingering fascination with literature and writing on the tip of my tongue, but i had always figured that writing plays and short stories was a waste of time for someone who should have been figuring eigenspaces of various vectors in the 6th dimension of R. there was of course the resistance from my parents, specifically my father. even now he doesn't really support this "little hobby" of mine as he puts it. and then there's taekwondo. my taekwondo career has been hardly ideal. though i must say, i have made rather grand strides since the summer of 2003. testing for my black belt this semester will be a perfect ending to my undergraduateness.

but now that i'm nearing the end, i'm realizing that it is far from over. i still have to apply to grad schools and teaching programs. nyctf is still high on my list of course, but denial is forcing me to forget that i already failed to get in through the first round of applications and that i will most likely not get in this time around. i am of course very behind the application process, having not done the necessary tests in order to apply to grad school. so what i'm thinking is that i'll take the following year off, find a job, and bum at home until i can get everything in order that needs to be. i already started getting letters of rec, albeit very late (yesterday), so that is one less thing to worry about. so really it's just the tests, the CSET and CBEST, that i need to take. and then i'm most likely in. my expectations for grad school are pretty low. i'm setting the bar at sf state, since i know i can get in. i'll still apply to a few others, but i won't get my hopes up. the lesson i learned through the last year is this: no, i am not awesome, and no one really thinks you are. because really, everyone else is at least just as if not more awesome than me.

i wonder what i will be doing in 5 years. teaching? writing a play? or blogging in the dark like i am now. half of me is eager to get there, but the other half is afraid to turn the lights on.

not moving

in all of this time
i took just two steps forward
and the world took three


my eyes stay forward
i watch what i could have been
run off without me