Mao Mao Speaks

Even though Seth hated math he did love symmetry. It soothed his brain when things were perfectly aligned. Tidy. It wasn't because of his upbringing. Or, OK, maybe it was. His home was very strict. Nothing out of place. Everything in it's place. Even his shoes. I'm not saying they "5 S"ed that shit but they totally "5 S"ed that shit. Seth's dad was obsessed with Lean principles. Which is kind of how you need to cultivate the Lean mindset. Or so his dad thought.  Some people bring work home and others make home their job. That was Seth's mom. She enjoyed the domestic arts. Found them fulfilling. Not because she cared a great deal for her family but mainly because she cared deeply about a nice home. Someplace you can relax. Kick your shoes off. Just make sure those shoes are clean and in their right spot. Her home would be the most relaxing home on the cul de sac. Even if she had to stress and work extra hard to make it so relaxing. Relaxation requ...

 Candy got her name from the fact that her mom craved orange skittles during her entire pregnancy. Just the orange ones. So it could be a coincidence or it could be science that Candy is a redhead. She was also really sweet. Maybe not Skittle sweet, but sweet enough. And that's the thing about names. They are important. Vital. A name can determine who you become. For instance, you don't meet many CEOs named Halo. But step into a yoga studio on a Tuesday at 11 and you may find a guru or two named Halo. It has so much bearing on your path and you don't get to... well at least in the beginning...you don't get to choose. This thought is what got Candy considering the fact that she was in a simulation. This thought got her mind going to places it probably shouldn't have been traveling. This thought was the beginning of Star.  Candy found herself at the beginning (or was it the end) after about 3 joints with her friends on a Friday that started so much like the other Frid...

 Hanging from my ankles, neck deep in an ocean of caramel-colored water. Or maybe running through a muddy field in only socks. Perhaps...perhaps it is like being punched in the same eye, once a week. But on different days. Waking up to find that your bed has been stolen and you are late for a flight you forgot you booked. I think that is how I'm feeling. But I'm not sure because, even though it's been a month, it is still too new. And I'm not processing. Not like I should be. But what else is new.  Some days are better than others. All my friends said that is to be expected. I didn't listen but they told me. I recognize I'm a strange brew. Pinch of arrogance, 3 cups of self-doubt, a tablespoon of comedy. Let that sit on the counter until it smells like fermenting lemons. Once you're ready, forget about it for a week then come back to a surprise. It's a boy.  Enough allegory. I'm starting to realize I don't know who I am. I know who I used to be. ...