Making It on the Hustle

In the two years since I’ve left my last regular day job, I’ve done gigs that are referred to as ‘hustles’ sometimes. I’ve done delivery work and now I drive for Uber.

First, I want to say I’ve made a lot of mistakes because I went into this totally blind thinking it was way easier than it really is, and because I thought things would just magically fall into place for me because it’s what I wanted.

The mistakes I made were not hustling more to make more money at the outset so I’d have a cushion built up and something to maybe fall back on. Also, I was exceptionally lazy and just let shit slide right down the toilet with me in it. But I’m still waking up on this side of the dirt and living in a place with a roof over my head for me and my pets so I must be doing something right.

So what I have learned about hustling to get this far?

1) You have got to be disciplined. No one is going to ride your ass telling you what to do or when to do it. It’s so damn easy to just put off things until tomorrow thinking that you can do it tomorrow. DON’T DO THAT! Do it now would be my motto to start with this. Set a goal and don’t stop until you hit it.

2) Balance. We’re all human and we all have our good days and our bad days. Sometimes you have to push through the bad day even though sometimes you just can’t do that. It’s a hard thing to realize but you have to know when you can push it, and when to back off.

3) Never forget the life you left, and never want to go back to. And also know that the further you get away from your former life, the harder it will be to go back to it. Don’t look back and remember why you walked away in the first place. And keep moving forward even if it’s just surviving.

4) No one knows everything and the price of it. Some people catch on quicker and move faster but that doesn’t make them know-it-all perfect gurus. And beware of fast-talking bullshit. How much money you can earn by hustling depends on how much time you’re willing to put into it. Because you may find a good groove sometimes, and there may be times when you don’t. There are going to be days when you have to take a shot at doing things differently not knowing if they’ll pay off. But you don’t know what works until it does, or doesn’t. And if it doesn’t, then you just have to deal with it.

5) Never give up, or give in. Have your moments of despair and wailing-shit, then shut the fuck up and move on. Yes you do have to have a kick-ass attitude to get through the lean-and-mean times but trust me, it’s a good attitude to have. Try not to think about any shit-bombs coming down on you because if they do you’ll just have to deal with them anyway.

6) Try not to give any time or energy to what ‘people’ might think about how you live. Trust me, the ‘people’ that might mouth off at you honestly don’t give a shit. They just have diarrhea of the mouth and you’re a convenient toilet bowl to them. Don’t be anyone’s toilet bowl and don’t take shit if you’re not giving it like my dad always used to say.

7) Enjoy the good times and pat yourself on the back when you figure something out or accomplish a goal. It doesn’t matter how long the good time lasts, or how you figured something out and got it done. It just matters that you did and use the moment as a way to remind yourself that you can do it again and again.

8) Try not to depend on anyone. I know there are people out there who will help but they may not be able to all the time. Live like you’re on Mars with a serious radio delay and no cavalry that will come to save you. Save yourself. Be your own hero/heroine.

9) Know that you’ll go without stuff that’s absolutely not essential for survival. These things will seem like small luxuries to you but basic necessary stuff to most people. But know that eventually you’ll scrape up a few extra bucks to indulge yourself a little. Don’t take any shit for doing that and don’t give yourself any shit for it either. Eat the greasy fast-food, buy something nice for yourself, and enjoy the hell out of it with no apologies to anyone.

10) Have the cockiness of Han Solo, and remember that Millennium Falcon was the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy. Appearances don’t matter but skill and attitude to. It’s not who you know or whose ass you have kiss with a hustle: it’s what you can do and how you can do it.

Peeling Back the Layers of Caring

One of the biggest problems I have with myself is that I care too damn much. And to compound on that, I can’t express that worth a shit. I can hide it with cynicism or stoicism, but in reality, I am a mushy-marshmallow of caring. But since I’m a klutz physically, mentally, and emotionally, my mushy-marshmallow of caring falls off the stacked s’more to the dirt below.

Whenever I start to feel that high-pitched hum of anxiety and adrenalin coursing through me like a hot electrical current, I know two things now:

1) I’m nervous about something I’m coming right up to the wire on.

2) I’m also butting up against something and even if I know what it is and what I need to do to deal with it, I don’t want to do because it’s not going to be easy.

But after number two up there, I remember that I’ve been told from the time I can remember that nothing would be easy for me. I remember I’ve been told that I would have to work very hard to get whatever I got then work like hell to keep it. I sure as hell wasn’t told things were going to be easy for me, nor did I have things handed to me, either. I’ve always felt that nothing has come easy for me and that the times when it feels like it’s flowing well to know that easy-flow won’t last.

That all sounds cynical there but that’s where the rub is: I’m not a cynical person. Oh, I can get into cynicism and sarcasm with the best of them but deep down, I care.

Caring for me is feeling passionate about things. It’s about liking things with an intensity that can be obsessive at times. It’s about wanting something so much yet terrified of succeeding because of what it might cost me. Yes, I’ve had a fear that if I really succeed at something that ‘someone’ (that almost-mythical ‘someone’) won’t like me and will actively hate on me and try to take it from me. I’ve always denied this until just now with that last sentence I wrote.

I’m glad I finally peeled back that layer and guess what, it didn’t hurt too badly. Actually, I’m feeling a bit more calm now that I see those words on the screen here as I type them. Because as I think about it, wanting to succeed at something and caring about it is a duel-edged sword for me. On one side is my desire to succeed at something I want, and the other is being hated on for caring so much about that.

All my life I’ve felt like I’ve cared too much, and that it was inappropriate at best and downright wrong at worst. Because even in my shittiest jobs for example, I cared about doing a good job and taking care of the people I was being paid to work with and help. And in my former corporate life, that wasn’t welcomed without co-workers hating on me and in some cases actively trying to undermine me, and management that felt like I was challenging them. It’s why I don’t miss that life anymore and why I want this one I have now to succeed as much as I do.

But I will say that writing about things does help me. It helps me not only to see things with my own eyes that I need to see, but to also know that I can work through things even if they’re hard. And every so often I get a bit lucky and things come together and work for me in a way that’s not so bad.

I don’t mind having a kick-ass attitude, but sometimes I like to have an attitude of Zen-calm or laid-back chill. I’m all of that and I think the more I understand and accept that, the better off I’ll be. Because every situation requires its’ own way of being handled, past a certain point there is no ‘right’ way or ‘wrong’ way if the objective is accomplished.

Finding Bravado, Super-Uber-Girl Style

Super-Uber Girl is a Facebook page ( I created to post fun stuff about being an Uber driver. But I didn’t want to do a short post because I have more material today than for a regular Facebook status post.

Last night I set a new record for my longest Uber ride: 125 miles from San Antonio International Airport to Carrizo Springs. The guy I picked up was down here for a job in the oil fields and going to stay with his buddy who got him the job. He was a very nice guy and I made him laugh with some of my stupid stories. But I started the run at ten o’clock at night and didn’t get back home till almost two-thirty a.m..

Now I will say that if my father were alive he’d be freaking out over this because as much as I loved my father, he was so freaking over-protective of me. It wasn’t like I did stupid stuff as a kid to warrant that because not only was I very shy and quiet, but very physically risk-adverse as well. It was like he didn’t think I had it in me to handle anything that wasn’t a safe, sit-down type of job. I will say that I haven’t taken what I feel are unnecessary risks but at the same time, the world isn’t going to eat me alive. Because if the world or some Godzilla-like monster wanted to eat me alive, I’m sure there’s nothing I could do to stop it.

But Godzilla is just a movie and the real monsters are in human form spouting racist bullshit and talking about wars while trying to legislate all the things that will make life shit for most everyone but themselves. And this is all while claiming ‘it’s for your own good’ and to please shut the hell up and do what you’re told even though it’s making you sick and miserable.

And again, I loved my father to pieces but he spouted a variation of ‘it’s for your own good’ to try and get me to fall in line all my life. So in a way my Uber-driving feels like an act of rebellion at times. I started driving for Uber part-time in addition to other gigs like food delivery and package delivery. But then I discovered I liked Uber driving because all I do is pick up people and drop them off. My job is two-parts navigation and driving and one-part trying to make funny conversation if so inclined. I’ve never come off an Uber-run wanting to tear something apart because of bullshit I had to swallow like I did too many times to remember in my former life in call-center hell.

On the road last night as I headed out of the city, a few stray thoughts wandered into my head like if something happened. First, I wasn’t going off to Camp Crystal Lake (had to get a ‘Friday the 13th’ joke in here) as I was on a busy highway with numerous places to stop along the way. Two, the guy I was with was a complete gentleman. And three, I was just doing my job. So if something had happened I would just have had to deal with it. But it’s not blind-faith that guides me on nights like that.

It’s a faith that I can deal with whatever is thrown at me. It may not be in a way someone else likes, or approves of, or any of their other bullshit. But more often than not, nothing really happens. I’ve learned that if you just put one foot in front of the other, or keep your foot on the gas in last night’s case, and keep going you’ll get to where you need to go. And if something does happen, you just deal with it without wringing your hands or pitching a shit-fit like a spoiled brat. And I have tried my best to just deal with things head-on and get it done without too much hand-wringing. I will admit that I have panicked more than once and lost my shit a few times, but I am human and therefore allowed to fuck up once in a while.

Sometimes I have to beg, borrow, or steal time to figure something out but time isn’t like money in a bank vault that you’ll go to jail for stealing. Time is fluid though slippery as heck sometimes, too. But it’s not the enemy. No, for me time is a friend that will work with me if I just give it room to breathe and flow. That’s where my faith in this world comes from: just letting time move in its’ own way and keeping myself afloat.

There are times when this attitude feels like an act of bravado I used to think was an illusion. It’s not an illusion because somehow, some way I’ve been able to make things work. Maybe not in a nice-and-neat way but trust me, steady jobs and steady paychecks can be yanked out from under you in the blink of an eye. In my former call-center life there was a saying that someone could be managed out the door. I saw that first-hand and I think there was an attempt to do that to me more than once. But now how much money I make or how well I do at this Uber-gig of mine depends on how much I put into it. And I’m not just talking time on the road, but about how much I believe in myself.

So I’m reaching the point where I don’t want to back away from bravado. It won’t always be a world-class rant like yesterday’s post here. But deep down, I will know that I always had it in me to make things happen. I might not know how I’ll get from point A to point B sometimes, and sometimes I just have to go out and do what I do and hope that things will work out. But I’d rather be on the road making money by turning my wheels than sitting around and eating bullshit for a living. Because yes I take things one day at a time but in reality, that’s all we’ve got to work with.

Peeling Back the Layers

Warning: Seriously bad language here but since this honest-and-searing writing, no apology given, just a warning.

For the last week or so I’ve kind of been avoiding the world of people except when I absolutely have to. Now I will freely admit most of my real interactions with people are on social media via an internet connection but they’re still interactions. Also, I haven’t posted much on Facebook and I haven’t blogged in forever, too. This morning as I sat in bed with my dog cuddled up against me, I realized why.

The thought I had was this: I’m beginning to peel back the layers I’ve placed over myself and my writing. My writing is what I feel is my primary form of self-expression since I’m a class-A recluse most of the time. I like writing funny, jokey, or navel-gazing stuff that ultimately turns positive. But there is this part of me that’s calling bullshit on some of that. I tell myself that my funny/jokey/navel-gazer-positive-thinking persona is real, but I also have a persona whose humor is as black as shit sometimes, whose jokes are class-A sarcasm, and who is tired of navel-gazing where I’m supposed to only look up and smile afterwards.

I don’t want to freaking smile and laugh about shit all the damn time. I want to be honest. And my writing over the last few days has been really honest, and absolutely searing at times. I’ve shown a little of it off in the past and pretty much gotten a yawn, which is fine. I’m not looking for a twenty-four hour news-cycle blast for what I’m doing. But I’m glad that I have found a tiny ounce of courage to go forward with this more honest-and-searing way of thinking.

Because like so many people, especially women, there is this need to put on a smile when all you want to do is scream, cuss someone out, or just tell the world to go to Hell and also say the good old days really sucked sometimes. That last part has really helped me as it was something my mother said and am now really beginning to understand. Yes, there were good times in the past but there was also a lot of shit. I may not come forth with all of it, but I’m not going to paste a smile over it and try to smother it into silence either.

Because right now I really want to say that at times I feel like my life and my attitude are a total pile of stinking shit. I get pissed off about a lot of shit and once I’m done being pissed off I tell it to piss off altogether. And I’m really getting to the point where I honestly don’t give a shit what anyone might think. Because as I write this I don’t feel that old stupid fear of someone’s going to stomp me into a pile of nothing or come and take what little I have. If someone honestly wants to make that much of a damn effort to stomp me into a pile of human shit, then there probably isn’t much I can do about it. But since I don’t know anyone with that much anger at me I honestly can say that I’m just thinking about the boogey man and we all know how fake he is. And if someone wants to take what little I have, I probably won’t be able to stop them either.

I’ve gotten low, yes. But my lower-than-low is wanting to run off and live in the wild and never see another human being again. Yet it’s not people in general that piss me off. It’s their freaking bullshit that tries to ruin perfectly-good things for no other reason than their own freaking stupidity and ego. You can’t fix stupid as the old saying goes, but you also can’t reason with it or teach it either. Stupidity is just a lack of information altogether while ignorance is forcing information to fit in a way that doesn’t always work then verbally kicking the crap out of someone for defying that.

Maybe I should be nicer but I’ve tried to be nice and whatnot and all I’ve gotten is a pile of shit in return. I would love to go back to the happy-go-lucky, look-towards-the-sunny-side-of-life kind of thing and I’m sure that persona will return at some point in time. Honestly, I really do like that sunny-side of me but sometimes she just needs to sit it out, too. And today she’s taking a break and sitting on the beach reading a book and sipping on a margarita for me.

In the past I’ve always shied away from fire-and-fury telling myself I can’t run on it forever and it’s a waste of energy anyway. First, I’m not an idiot and I know I can’t run on one thing forever so I call bullshit on that. Second, energy is only wasted if it’s hoarded or forced into submission. And third, it’s alright to get pissed off and defiant about shit and not apologize for it. Because one thing I’m really happy to see here with this set of words today is a lack of apologies, or fucks given. The only fuck I want is one that brings me an orgasm, not an apology that’s unnecessary to begin with.

I Don’t Know What I’d Do Without My Pets – Poem

I Don’t Know What I’d Do Without My Pets


I don’t know what I’d do without my pets

Because no matter how bad I feel

They still need to be taken care of


If you have a dog, it will need to go outside

If you have a cat, it will need to be fed

Both will need to be petted and cuddled


You will think of their needs before your own

I will make sure mine are fed before I eat

I will spend more money on their food than on mine sometimes


And when I’m sad they’ll stay close to me

My dog will curl up beside me and offer up her belly for belly rubs

My cat will lay beside commanding to be petted

Both will always respond to the sound of my voice

And always let me pet and cuddle them


Yes, I know pets can reduce stress

But mine have let me cry into their fur in the dark of night

Mine have listened to me pour my heart out to them

And though they can’t respond back in words

Their eyes on me

My cat’s purring

And my dog’s loving devotion

Have all been enough to make me feel better


I don’t have human children

But my pets are my children

Or as I like to say,

My children have four legs and fur, and bark and meow

But I care for them as much as I would if I had a human child


Because of my dog, I get outside to see the sky and breathe the air

I get outside to walk and exercise

I get outside sometimes to even meet people

And though my dog can be anti-social, especially with other dogs

Occasionally though, we’ll make a new friend, however brief


So to Darcy and Ronan, my pets, my four-legged fur-kids

I love you even when you drive me nuts

I love your cuddles

And devotion to me

I love how you keep me going even when I’m feeling terribly lonely

I love how you make me smile and laugh with your antics


Darcy-dog, I love you despite your over-protectiveness

I love you despite the fact I messed up your first year

I love you when you smile at me

I love you when you cuddle with me

I love you when you get me outside to see the sky


Ronan-kitty, I love you despite your fat laziness

I love you despite the fact that you’re a doofus sometimes

I love you even when you panic when you can see the bottom of your food dish

I love you when you come up to me wanting to be petted

Even when you can clearly see I’m doing something else


Both of you came into my life when I wasn’t looking to get a pet at all

But you both stayed with me, and loved me no matter what

For that I’m forever grateful


And with me, no matter what happens, you’ll always have a home

I’ll always be there for you no matter what happens to us

Even in the darkest of nights, and the scariest and saddest of times

I’ll always keep you by my side

I’ll always love you


Because honestly, I don’t know what I would do with you

Keeping the Faith

My maternal grandmother used to say you either had faith or you didn’t, no two ways about it. For a long time, I thought that didn’t take into account the complexities of this world and the vast amounts of gray there are sometimes. But I’ve come to the conclusion that she was right.

For me, if I don’t believe in something then I don’t see a reason to do something. Because to me, faith is about caring, caring about yourself and the world around you, and a belief that if you don’t give up on yourself or the world around you, then things will work out in some way.

I don’t believe in a faith that’s all about pleasing some mystical all-knowing all-seeing force commonly referred to as God. I don’t see God as an old white bearded guy hurling shit down on top of humans for every little fuck-up or bad thought. That’s just the work of some dumb-ass human trying to keep other humans in line and keep them from questioning or challenging things that need to be challenged. I see God as a force beyond our limited understanding but that our own decisions and actions are what drives life here on Earth. I believe in free will, and the ability to make decisions and solve problems. And I believe in the good of this world despite all the awful shit in it. To me, those last two things are what define my faith: the ability to make decisions, and a belief that good will always triumph over bad.

It’s something that I need to remind myself some days more than others because fear and anxiety can grip me as hard as it wants to, and only my faith can loosen that grip. Sometimes this means taking things one day at a time, just get through this day and worry about the next one when it comes.

Another thing about faith is that it acknowledges the great mysteries in life itself, the past, present, and future, and what is beyond this world. Because not all questions have answers, and I wonder if some questions are never meant to have answers. Faith in regards to the great mysteries is saying to keep living even if you don’t have all the answers and know that you won’t ever find all of those answers either.

So whenever I think I’m a fuck-up for making things up as I go along and just dealing with crap as it comes, I tell myself that’s alright. I tell myself it’s alright because no one, not me or anyone else, knows what’s going to happen next. I think the only thing I can say for certain will happen next is that the sun will come up tomorrow because scientists say that our sun has about four-billion years of life left in it before it turns into a giant star and incinerates the Earth. And if they’re wrong… well, we haven’t found a way to get off this rock and colonize another world yet so why worry about that, too?

A Lesson in Silence, and Breaking It, Too

Friday night I had a rider in the car with me and we got to talking and our conversation didn’t go as well as I would have liked it to. We had disagreements on various political and social issues and one thing he said to me rocked me hard. But once the dust settled and the vibrations ended from that earthquake in my mind, heart, and soul, I had a moment of clarity. And early the next morning I wrote what you can see in the PDF file here.

This is some of the most revealing writing I’ve ever posted and I’ve had to sit on it for the last few days to make sure I could handle it going forward. But like what else I’ve posted here on this blog-website of mine, I’m proud of it. I’m proud of my honesty, my clarity, and the emotions behind the words. As I’ve said many times before, writing is not easy, especially when it turns into a therapy session. But for me, writing gives me hope, and clarity about myself and the world around me.

The ‘Breaking Radio Silence’ project has been in my mind for close to a year now. But it has been very slow going because when I get near a very painful thing in myself, I back off and have to work through that in whatever amount of time I need to. I can’t force it to go any faster than it does and maybe it will get a bit easier over time for me to deal with. But for now, sometimes I have to let my words have to sit and settle for awhile before I let them out into the world.

But here is the best articulation of what the ‘Breaking Radio Silence’ project means to me.

Breaking Radio Silence – introduction

The Past Doesn’t Matter


The old proverb of ‘Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it’ gets trotted out so much that I see it as a tired old horse that needs to be put out to pasture. Because not only are a lot of humans freaking dumb-asses who can’t even learn how to take a shit properly, they don’t care to learn about doing do so in the first place. And most of all, they don’t give a damn about the past when they do awful things like others have done before.

This thought came to me as I see people trotting out tired old horses like the proverb above and also ‘well, this was done by so-and-so’ and ‘they did bad things, too’.

No one can go back and change the past so if anyone throws past shit on the table during a discussion, it needs to be cleared off the table and thrown in the trash. Because bringing up the past is just digging through the garbage to try to bring something back to life that’s dead.

I think people look to the past because they don’t want to face the present in all its’ shitty glory (insert sarcasm here). Yes, I can look back on my past and think fondly of it. But I can also look back and say what my mother used to say: “The good old days sucked.” And there are things in my past that I would rather not talk about, nor relive because I learned some pretty shitty lessons about people and life in general back then. But now I am working my butt off not to live by that shit. Every time in my mind when I feel a bit of regret and start to do ‘would’ve-could’ve-should’ve’ as my father used to call it, I shut it down and tell myself to focus on the here and now.

Yes, I freely admit that I live in the present. I live without a safety net so to speak, and without a lot of money right now, either. I survive, yes, but in that survival I’ve learned more about living than in my previous forty-four years. And I’ve learned that if I want to solve my problems, I need to focus on the here-and-now and what I can do today. Because looking to my past sure as hell hasn’t solved any of my problems so why should I look there for answers to the present?

So in the larger context of the world around us, let’s quit trying to dodge the problem by saying ‘oh we need to learn from the past in order not to do this again’, or ‘someone else did this before so why all the fuss now?’ The second is even more full of bullshit than the first one. How in the freaking hell does a past action by someone cause a present problem? If someone fucked up before, yeah they’ll probably fuck up again. But what if they’re not fucking up now, but someone else is? Why not go after the someone else in the present doing the fucking up?

Now, I will admit here that you can look back at decisions made and decide not to make those same decisions again. I strongly believe that we can all make different decisions than we have before, and that we can make different decisions than those of people around us, even ones that hurt us. And as long as your decision is not causing harm, it’s not wrong. And if someone doesn’t like that, tell them to kiss your ass then fuck off. This tit-for-tat, past-versus-present bullshit is just that, total bullshit because these face-offs over past and present don’t accomplish a damn thing. It’s a tactic used to divert someone from making a decision for themselves, and not facing a present issue head-on.

Yes, I’m sure we’ve all fucked up in the past. I know I sure as hell have. And I could say I did the best I could with what I had to work with, and what I knew then, and blah, blah, blah. But I can’t go back and change things since I haven’t discovered time-travel and you know what, I don’t want to. I know very well that life isn’t perfect, but I believe we can always move forward unless we’re dead and buried.

And I think this is why I’m having trouble looking back on things and writing about them now. I’m so focused on the present that the past is losing its’ hold on me. And it feels good, real good in fact.

So my advice to anyone reading this would be to break those chains that you’ve given to the past, and don’t use the past as a way of avoid dealing with the present.

Mother and Child Reunion

On Sunday evenings I listen to re-broadcasts of the old American Top 40 Countdown shows and if you remember listening to those, you know that there were segments called ‘Long Distance Dedications’. Most were from people wanting to acknowledge individuals who had made a difference in their lives, but one man wrote in with a different story. His dedication was to the men he was imprisoned with, and who were being executed every morning at dawn.

In his letter he told how he’d been arrested on drug-trafficking charges in South Africa (this was the early 1980’s) and while in prison awaiting trial, every night the other prisoners, black South African men, would sing and dance all night long before they were executed in the morning. These men were mostly political prisoners, prisoners of conscience whose only crimes were being black and speaking out against the apartheid system of government in South Africa then. The songs they sang and danced to were by black South African artists except for one: “Mother and Child Reunion” by Paul Simon, a white American artist.

The reason this song and this story come to mind is what’s happening right here and now in the United States with children being taken from their mothers as they arrive at the border fleeing the violence, poverty, and oppression in their home countries. Those men in South Africa had mothers, too, mothers who might not have known where their sons were, or that they were going to die. The pain of a mother knows no limits, yet mothers are the ones who are targeted by the most evil of regimes. Mothers throughout human history have had their children taken from them, from Jewish children in Nazi Germany, to Native children in Australia, Canada, and the United States (yes, there were Stolen Generations here in the US, just like Australia and Canada), and now here at our borders.

But let’s not talk about the past but about the present, the Here and Now we all live in, and the Hell that is the Here and Now for the mothers at the border detention centers hearing the cries of their children, and crying for them in return.

Reunite the Mothers and Children


And may all who act on this atrocity face justice in this life, and the next.

I Call Myself a Writer (Poem)

I Call Myself a Writer


For the longest time, I always said I was something else

Something in addition to being a writer


I was a call-center jock who wrote

I was an Uber driver who wrote

I was something else who also wrote


But over the last few days when I ask myself what I am

I say to myself ‘I am a Writer’

I’m still working on finding the courage to say this out-loud

As I have not earned enough from my writing to pay any bills


Yet paying the bills isn’t what a title is about

It’s a declaration of who you are and what you do

For me, it’s a declaration of my calling

It’s the first word I can use to describe myself




I claim the title of ‘Writer’ in my mind, and in my heart and soul

It’s what I hear most in my mind when I think about what I do

And what I want to do not only in a day

But with my life


I feel a sense of loss, and of sadness when I don’t write

I know some days I won’t have the strength to write

I know some days the words won’t come to me

And I know I’ll be okay on those days,

Even when they make me sad and lonely


But when I’m feeling sad and lonely away from my keyboard

I will tell myself ‘I am a Writer’

I will ask myself what I am and reply with,

‘I am a Writer’

I Call Myself a Writer -pdf