I experienced my first personal tragedy at the age of 15. I remember it like it was yesterday.
I’m writing this entry in a coffee shop, an hour away from when I’m supposed to perform as a Spoken Word poet. I’m frazzled, caffeinated and very nervous.
I love fish: both as creatures of the deep and as a delicious entree. I like to think that I was a mermaid in a past life. A mermaid that had an adorable fish companion, much like Ariel and Flounder. I love going to the local aquariums of places I visit. I’ve had the great opportunity to go snorkeling and scuba diving in local beaches – all for the love of these special sea-dwellers.
As a pre-teen, our family had a small aquarium with pet goldfish. They were cute, little blobs of joy. I fed them everyday with their little autumn-colored flecks of fish food. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t best to put their tank next to the microwave but I digress.
The feelings come in like house guests, starting with shock.
“Uhh, what’s with the title? What’s “The Secret Life of Ordinary Things”?”
So I don’t know if you know but in case you didn’t know, I’m trying to write a book. Currently, the working title is “The Secret Life of Ordinary Things”. It’s a compilation of my writings about my life: the mundane, everyday-ness of life from my somewhat introspective perspective.