In the olden days, way back when, people were given last names because of their occupation. Woodman was a man who worked with wood. Wheelman was a man who worked with wheels. Goodman, well, he was just a good man. If I lived back then, I wonder if my name would have been Curt Buttermacher. Except, I haven't been making too much butter lately. Maybe, my name would have been Curt Sitzmann. Or, Curt Nada. Or, Curt Houndlessmann.
I had a dream the other night, where Warden was biting me, but I still loved him. Can you believe that nearly two years have passed since I began blogging? I can't. Nothing really changes in prison. You wake up, you walk around, you do some things, you go to sleep, and then you wake up again. But outside of prison...it's almost too much. Even my handwriting is different! Can you believe that!
I just wish, sometimes, that I knew, without a doubt, I was a winner. I wish I could walk around knowing that I won. Just sometimes though because if you win all the time, winning doesn't mean a thing. I almost pity Curt Winner, but not too much, because Curt Winner is still a notch above Curt Jimenez. Like this post. It isn't great, but if all my posts were great, what kind of blog would this be? Boring, imho.
But it would be nice, for once, to feel like this:
