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extra, extra, read all about it: it’s not 1998.

7 Aug

You wouldn’t know it, though, based on the way I’ve been behaving of late.

In 1998, I was 20 years old. Back then, not only did I burn the candle at both ends, but I beat the candle up, trashed it like a rock star, and did it day after day without blinking. At that time, I balanced a full-time college schedule and two jobs, one of which I would head to after school and typically close for, not leaving until midnight or thereafter. After work was over, I’d head home and turn my attention to homework, sometimes staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning until everything was done. And that was just during the week. Ah, youth. (In case you’re counting, I’m presently a year older than this, and in about a month and a half, will be two years older. Let’s discuss that later, shall we?)

Apparently, though, I’ve been trying to relive the rock star days of yore lately, staying up until the wee hours of the morning and having the audacity to believe that I will 1) wake up on time the next day; 2) stay awake on the metro and totally not fall asleep and miss my stop in the process; 3) get to work on time, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for the day to come; and 4) remain energetic throughout the day, hardly wishing I could sob from fatigue and sleep all at the same time. The audacity, really. So, what’s the reason, you wonder? After all, those college/concert/party days are waaay over.

Wait for it…wait for it…

1. I’m a night owl.
2. The Golden Girls comes on at midnight and ends around 2am.

Feel free to commence with “you brought it on yo’self.”

I’m sleepy. Onwards.


Bend it like Beckham!

5 Sep

I’m on a poetry kick. Get it? Beckham? Get it? Is there anyone out there? No, there isn’t. But I’m so ok with that.

I said it a few posts ago, but the poems have been really coming here and there. One of them has even been entered in a fake contest! (See below). Anywho, I’m happy about it. This is no guarantee that I won’t bemoan the lack of creativity by next week, but I’ll takes what I can get.

The weekend looms. During said weekend, this area will receive the hardcore remnants of a tropical storm. Yes, you heard it here: Somewheres, VA, will see the kind of flooding that usually bypasses us. I don’t know what to say. I just have a major beef with the crazy weather, obviously. I really do. Come personification, the weather and I definitely have a meeting by a pair of flagpoles somewhere. Sheesh. I long for the day when I don’t have to comment on loony heat and numbing cold and, who knows, cows descending from the sky. Yeah, that’ll happen. As my bro likes to say, that’ll happen in the month of Neveruary.



Sincerely, Taj

Dear World, I have stuff to say, so get cozy. Here, I've got cupcakes.

Fully Awake and Alive

A collection of poetry and essays on politics, social justice and the condition of humanity

Kristen Hope Mazzola

Everyone has a story; this is mine


When all fails, write a poem. You might succeed in that, so what's there to lose?

Dear Husband|Dear Wife|Dear Baby

Little somethings to one another

Traipsing After Jane

The Writing Life of Pamela Aidan

Welcome to My Empty Nest

Musings from Mama Bird


Conquering the döner kebab at a time


Have you finished that book yet?

The Victoria/Italia Project

Finding My Way Back


Learning the importance of self-worth

Bucket List Publications

Indulge- Travel, Adventure, & New Experiences

The Daily Post

The Art and Craft of Blogging

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