My plan is to write. Every. Single. Day.
I’ll begin today with some secrets, lies, and confessions. Consider them a cross between a bio and a literary sex tape:
My father had a pet pig named Franco when he was a kid in Italy.
When I was six I was afraid the Devil would kill me in my sleep, so I slept with a Bible and a cross made out of a dried palm tree fronds. That went on for two years.
Ever since watching the movie E.T., I’ve had a recurring dream that I jump off a curb on my bike and end up flying high in the sky.
When I was in 3rd grade, a girl poked me in my ribs with a sharp pencil during math section. I bled through my light blue t-shirt. Ms. Alexander made Jeannie apologize, and benched her during recess and lunch for two days. All because I told Jeannie I had rib cancer.
I was the only kid on my block to climb Bird Turd Mountain without using a rope. Mike dared me to do it, and so I did. He tried to climb the mountain without rope after me, but slipped and fell to the bottom. That’s how he broke his arm. He told everyone that I pushed him because he reached the top before me.
I gave Scott, my 3rd grade friend, the Playboy magazine that I found under the Festividad bridge. He told his mom how he got it, and we weren’t allowed to play together anymore.
I had a crush on Mrs. Collier, my 5th grade teacher. I pretended not to understand math so I could stay after school with her for tutoring.
I rolled a car tire in front of Patrick as he raced his bike down a hill, pedaling towards the jump ramp. I felt bad for hurting him, and shame when the older boys called me a dick.
Three of my poems were published in my junior high school literary journal. One of the poems was plagiarized from a Styx song, “I’m Okay”, because it described how I was feeling in a way I couldn’t.
I had only 5 absences throughout high school—1 was unexcused.
My cousin, Johnny, and I collected reward money for a lost cat, even though we never found it. We told the upset owner that we saw the cat and it was dead in the street. We walked with her to a dark oil spot in the street by the corner stop sign. We said the oil spot was blood, and someone must have thrown the cat in the trash. She gave Johnny and I each $5 for telling her the sad news. A few days after receiving the reward money for the lost cat, I gave it back. The upset owner thanked me for my honesty, and never again waved at me as she drove past.
I quit biting my fingernails and smoking cigarettes on April 3, 2006.
During a lesson on comma usage I jokingly told the students that I was one of four “Comma Experts” in the world recognized by the Modern Language Association. A few students believed me and I never told them the truth.