At one point in prison, I stopped going to Homes' writing workshops. I'm not sure why. Homes might have been too hard on me during a reading of my work, or maybe what I was writing I felt was too personal to be sharing with my fellow inmates. I just stopped going. For weeks, I avoided Homes. That can be hard to do in prison, to avoid someone. I skipped meals, and didn't go to movie night. In prison, it is hard not to go to movie night. There are only so many things you get to look forward to in a week.
Homes started leaving notes around in places he knew I would find them. Eventually, I started to go back. What else was I going to do? Nobody would spot me when I went to the weight room, and nobody would play chess with me, because I wasn't any good. It felt like there wasn't room for me anywhere but the writing workshops, and even that was a stretch.
My point, I guess, is that even if I intimate like I'm going to stop blogging at the end of the year, or if I stop posting for a couple of days, it doesn't mean that I'm finished. No, I think this blogging thing is good for me, and I'm going to keep with it. There is room for me here, on the worldwide interwebs. And I'm telling you this, because I can tell that you care!
Jimenez, out!
No comments:
Post a Comment