Girl with the Pickup Truck
Hunger Games
In an underground cave resting on the south building of the John F Kennedy library at Cal State LA there used to be a Computer Lab. On most evenings I would come up from that underground lair. I was 18 years old, I did not want to go home but had to, I still had a paltry allowance, I had eaten my mom’s egg sandwich first thing in the morning and now I had some choices to make. With my stomach badly grumbling I search about myself and in my pocket I found a few dollars that could either cover the two and a half mile RTD bus ride to Eastman Ave or they could buy me some nachos from the King Taco on campus.
Not feeling sorry for myself and with the cover of night as an asset I knew there was another option. Sometimes, packaged and wrapped food that wasn’t consumed was gently tossed in bins behind the cafeteria, or the lunch truck on the north side of campus. Sometimes, kids left half eaten tacos in the courtyard at Salazar Hall.
Foraging was hard the first time I did it but it got easier with time and usually I had enough to cover me until I got home to worrying my worrying parents.
Never once did I get food poisoning.
Hold the Presses
Hugo Fun Fact 29
A Note About the Funny People
The Long and Short of It
Cheat Guys Guide to Dating
The UT Job – Deep Archives
I haven’t written in ages. I miss it.
Sometimes it seems that I forget about it due to laziness. Or sometimes I’m so involved in making the aspects of my life coexist in merriment that taking the time to jot down a few words seems trivial. But now I sit here waiting to know how my financial future will play out and in order to get my mind away from it I come back to my little journal to carp, cry and ponder.
It’s windy on this Wednesday April 15th. I’ve been officially out of a job for 4 days and in the hunt for a Staff Writer position at the University Times. It seems that my party days are threatening to hurt me here.
I am perfect for this position. I write well, I love the spotlight, I know the campus and I like the people. But my past is the Achilles heel for me. I’m vulnerable in that area….
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