If I were more loyal to my job, I'd be cleaning up the early copy for some days ahead. Instead, I'm composing a 50-word story. This, in fact, is that story. Get it! I'm writing while I'm working! Fantastic, huh? ... Guess I'd better get out of here. Se la leaving!

Sentimental Sunday

Lots of changes have occurred in the past few weeks. Recording them will require dusting off a technique long since applied here at 50 word stories, subheads!

Starving?
Today marks the end of my 10-day fast. I am not starving. I am brimming with energy. Don't know if I told you, but my skin is super clear, my reflexes razor sharp and my healing energy ramped up. I got a blister a few days ago — completely gone! I even lost weight, not that I needed to; I'm a pretty skinny kid anyway. Master cleanse is highly recommended for you and your long-term health.

Furlough?
My employer ordered me and the rest of my associate co-workers to take five days of unpaid leave during the course of this quarter. It makes me quite nervous about my financial situation a year from now. I worry that one day, me and my associate co-workers will find ourselves on the dead end of the chopping block; under the accountant's surgical knife as he conducts an appendicitis, with me as the appendix.

Starchild!
One whole year. When this Saturday arrives, Ms. Starchild and I will have been together for one year. This is freakin' tough to believe. It's exciting. And it keeps getting better.

"Can I Graduate!"
I saw this band on Friday. It was freakin' unbelievable. I've dug them since the moment my ears heard the opening guitar notes to "Losing a Whole Year" off the first album. The only drag about that concert was that me and my favorite girl couldn't consume any alcohol. Not only that, but we couldn't bring in our Lemon Drink (see the above subhead "Starving?"). Concerts and alcohol will always be as comfortable to me as taking off clothes.

That's if for now!
That's it for now! Until next week, respect all of life, and enjoy all of living.

So, I'm sitting downtown here. No sightings of Mr. Jenkins yet. I could see him walking among townsfolk, or not. It's hard to say. It'd like to trade songs with him. Get to see him and the crew tonight. I'm pretty psyched. Maybe too psyched to write a full 50.

Today has been nothing but bad news. Co-worker screwed up last night, I have to hear about it at 11 a.m. Other co-worker gets pushy, wants to butt in where not necessary, 15-year-old shot in head twice. And I'm the rude one? "Whatever, man." I hate slavery. It never ends.

How could he have no regrets. Maybe he never spoke to the people face to face. No matter what, there's no excuse for allowing a mass slaughter of such proportion. At any rationalization, the end'll always equal the same scenario. I'll never accept savage nature as a virtue of humanity.

My nose is haywire, and I suspect it's because of the fast. I smell everything. More often than not, it's unpleasant. People smell terrible. Terrible! You probably smell, too. I know now that I smell — and it's actually of lemons. Yeah! Lemons! Yep, halfway over. Only five more days left.

I thought that I'd be starving by now. I'm brimming with energy, despite being nearly halfway over with my 10-day fast. This lemon drink is the tops! I do, though, miss food. I miss waffles, black bean quesadillas, chocolate, chips, seitan Chinese, tofu triangles, pizza, fries, BEER! ... six more days.

Sentimental Sunday

My lady and I worked things out. Things are great.

She put a bid in on this house. She's been looking to buy for quite a while now. So, if you're reading this, let's all think good thoughts about the owners accepting my lady's offer, OK. 

In other news, I've been ordered to take a five-day unpaid furlough from my place of employment in the next few months. This is upsetting, but understandable. My fellow designer colleagues (who aren't journalists) show minimal concern. Senior employees show considerable interest. I feel grateful to still have a job — even though it would've been nice if even higher senior employees would've accepted a pay cut instead. But I suppose there's plenty of reasons that could be explained away why that wouldn't've worked. Next quarter... I'll probably be plucking chickens.

So, if you've got some food on your table, take a nice long look at it before gobbling it down. Appreciate it. Eat it like it's a last solid meal. Eat them all in such a way. You never know...

My brother is kind of cramping my style for two reasons. He sides with Ozymandias in this fiction. He's got a girl, but she can't let him sleep over; her situation's strange. I don't know whether he's leaving next month. I guess that's all.

So, I had a little send off to start my Lemonade Diet. It's a little P-bone joint I like to call Apple Hash. I've made this for a while, but now it's without the bacon on account of the vegetarianism. The recipe's up-in here. You can thank me later. Holla!

So, it's almost springtime, the time of year that in my mind signals a new year of sorts (much more than a birthday or calendar). This year, I'm trying a fast. My kitchen is loaded with lemons and syrup. My mind is focused. I'm prepared for my first intentional fast.

Tonight, me and my bro will be celebratin': his 24th birthday, my canceled designing commission. With this latest cancellation, the next few months will be quite hard. Nevertheless, I will persevere. After all, there really is no choice. We both know that harder times have been overcome. Se La Vi!

Some rare honesty from our government: Today I received a letter readjusting my tax return, and adding about $300. How about that! Sure, I'm going to use it exclusively for paying my credit card debt, but it's nice to have anyway. Besides, honesty is always profitable, especially when there's money.

Is it ironic or coincidental that on the night that I wrote about my trusty phone, it breaks during the impact of a reckless driver colliding with the rear area of my parked vehicle, which was at the time paused in observance a red light? Wonder if the driver'd know.

Did I tell you about a fairly new mode of operation by which I work? Vegetarianism. Yeah, I've given up eating meat for a spell. It's been... since Dec. 13, almost three months. Don't miss it much. Do miss sushi and BLTs. The bacon, though, I can fabricate. The sushi?...

I've been a pretty lazy blogger. It's true. Tomorrow is my Bro's B-day. The day afterward is my good friend Mr. Life's B-day, which I'd've forgotten if not for my phone, my trusty phone. I shall use said phone to make these B-day calls. Then, maybe crack open a walnut.

Sentimental Sunday

I am blue.
Aging is really on my mind, and this is for just one reason. My girlfriend is several years my senior. Lately, our age difference is more noticable. Take this example:
I played a gig at this wine shop on Friday. Ms. Starchild hung out while I droned on cover songs to provide a backdrop of sound while gulping down this delicious wine. A group of patrons who saw her sitting alone engaged her, thinking that she was my mother.
This is embarrassing, but it saddens me much more deeply. We are both growing to a tacit feeling of nonacceptance of our relationship based on one or more definitions of an acceptible age discrepancy.
Now I've been a lot of things to women. Shitty boyfriend, cheating lover, lying bastard, wimpy loser, jealous faun, boy, man, dunce, et cetera. Never too young. It's so unacceptible, unfair.
We both love each other, but nothing can stop our respective aging. This is worse than a break up. It's worse than Ms. 2012 hating me; worse than Ms. Shopgirl forgetting me; worse than Ms. Yellowhead denigrating me; worse than gossip. I feel just defeated and alone, and it's mostly because I don't know how I should feel.