The Loudmouth Mooch

Tonight, I wanted to write about a little girl. Not necessarily a little girl in particular, but about the very soul of one. Do you remember the days growing up where the things you focused on in the world were so incredibly simple? The vulnerability just jumped from your skin.You could take something so small like a little lizard running up the side of your childhood home and create a story for that tiny, precious life. You'd be able to create an entire back story. The lizard wanted to be an explorer. Climbing up limestone on a daring adventure to find sunlight or maybe it's lost brother. Something just so very pure was something you couldn't look past. Now imagine a small girl, looking at life and finding the untouched beauty in her perspective on such a fast-paced, moving world. Oh the things we could learn from someone so innocent. You want to do everything you can to protect her from what is out there for her to learn. You would do anything to maintain her simplicity...

I'm just going to start typing. That's how this works, right? Back in high school, all I could imagine myself being at the age of 25 was being this super cool journalist that wrote amazing stories about delicious food and daring adventures in the southern region of France tasting delicious Bordeaux (that region is in the south of France, right?) I wanted to combine my love for cooking and the cool leather-bag donning aesthetic of being a writer. Oh how I never imagined that wouldn't happen. I thought the creative writing college class I took my senior year of high school convinced me that writing for a job or a task that I was forced to do would be so daunting that I'd never meet deadlines and that my twelfth grade English teacher would always be disappointed in me. It's ironic how crippling anxiety can be. Eight years later and with a mountain of crippling student debt, here I am realizing that writing may actually be my salvation. You see, I've bee...