I hate making decisions. Wait, I take that back. That's not technically true. I hate making decisions that are of any significance. I'm ok with creative stuff, I'm really proud of all my stories. The decisions I'm best with are the ones that happen when I stop by a gas station, you know, the kind like what kind of Cheetos to get: crispy, puffs, or ( Read more... )

Tamales! Seriously. Anyone who doesn't know what I'm talking about should all troop over to my abuelita's house. It's not like there isn't an army already over there anyway. The ones my family makes are bigger than Mexican tamales. I don't really know how they compare to any other type, I haven't tried many. Why would I? The Mendez family makes the ( Read more... )

1. I need money for art supplies ( Read more... )

Isaac Mendez had a favorite sweater. It was gray, threadbare, and a bit oversized. Usually it lay crumpled in a heap on his floor along with all the rest of his clothes, but the fact which most concerned him was that he always knew where it was should he need or want it. He didn't wear it during the day now, the summer heat made even the most ( Read more... )

When he gets like this he doesn't have to think. That's the beauty of it. Capturing an image frozen in one's mind is much easier than thinking of one on your own, or worse, getting paid by commission. It's not his fault that the starched collars and straight jackets of the business world directly inhibit the imagination. Still, he needs the money, ( Read more... )

Ok, so it's 12:00am on Friday night, Saturday morning, however you wanna look at it. I should be out doing something. A party would be nice. But no. I've given myself a kind of bizarre house arrest. Is that even possible? I mean, it's not because I can't go anywhere. I just don't want to. I have been awake for a grand total of thirty eight hours ( Read more... )