“1. I never really wanted to write poetry. I just really like coffee”
– Jason Bayani, “Twenty-One Lies Ending In A Statement of Truth.”
(The statements are lies, of course.)
I feel him on coffee. I didn’t touch the stuff until college. Starbucks runs as a callow youth were strictly for cream sodas and creme-base Frappucinos. The witche’s brew that stole its name from my father’s island was alien to me – a rare nod to my mother’s anti-stimulant heritage or simple common sense for parents with a rowdy son is anyone’s guess. I’m a sucker for Vietnamese iced coffee when I can get it nowadays, but my current misery is a confluence of eleven hours of sleep and a 7-11 French Vanilla mocha. Midterm review and miscalculation for the win.
I feel Jason on the first sentence too.
I think I always wanted to write, I just didn’t know it.
It seems almost unescapable, what with all the books in my life. I was notorious for reading. I’d ignore teachers, hide books under my desk, bring three to detention…you get the idea. My teachers still make fun of me. To this day, I’ll buy food and a book before I’ll buy clothes.
I wish UCLA had a creative writing minor. I don’t have enough time to double major and I refuse to give up on history – it’s too fun.