Hiya, Welcome back to PEP! Last week ended up being a week off from everything, including my baking, the only exception being the blog post last Monday. As such, I don’t have a new recipe to share about. However, I’ve got plans this week for something new and will let ya’ll know next week how it turns out. It’ll be my first attempt at this difficulty level so we’ll see.
This week’s Question: What is your dream job?
My answer: My dream job is a published author. I want to be able to spend all day writing and live off of what I make. Even if my books only reach a few people, I’d consider myself successful. I have several novels in first draft status and am currently editing the first for the third, and hopefully final, draft so I can submit it for publishing. Even if it’s not successful the first time, I’m going to keep trying. I refuse to give up until I make it. I’ve got several ideas that I wouldn’t mind implementing as careers but not only do they definitely need money to do so but writing is my long-time dream. What are some of ya’lls dream jobs?
This week’s writing:
I see you every day but I haven’t Looked at you in months. Perhaps even longer than that. I realize my mistake now, now that it’s nearly too late. We nearly lost you and it’s our own damn faults. But see if anyone will admit that though? No, they’d rather blame you for trying to escape the hell we put you through. I don’t. I refuse to blame you for trying to escape the hell your parents put you through that the rest of us all missed. I saw you every day at school but so caught up with my friends, I’d missed you slowly withdrawing into yourself more and more until you might as well not be there. That is, except when the school bullies were taunting you. I saw them but I didn’t see them. I didn’t see your enthusiasm for school wane, I didn’t see your love for art, English, colors disappear. I missed the way you stopped wearing whatever you wanted, regardless of what others thought and start wearing sweats and hoodies in an attempt to disappear. Not that it worked. I never liked Brian and his friends anyway but was safe from them as a member of the baseball team. As a punk, band-playing, outcast, you were a target, a sitting duck really. As I’ve learned recently, one of their favorite targets. You’ve been on your own for way too long.
I swear that will change. We’ll be friends again, I won’t leave you again. That is, once you wake up, Z. It’s been a month, the docs say you should wake up any time and I’m not leaving until you do. I failed you once, it won’t happen again. © Paula Crofoot
This week’s music as I’m posting this: Selma Drye by Kellie Pickler from The Woman I Am
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