I'll tell you a secret I don't even know.

Today is the last day of summer vacation. In twelve hours the alarm will go off and I'll bolt out of bed -- probably after lying awake for an hour staring at the inside of my eyelids -- shave and shower and get into my newest monkey suit, drink some Irish Breakfast and hit the road. Then school begins.

I am mostly over the panic that's been flooding my body in the form of crank-crazed butterflies driving bullet trains greased with hallucinogenic jelly down the subcutaneous railways of my nervous system for, oh, about a month now. Mostly done with that. It helps that I'm working with a seasoned veteran whose job description involves helping me figure things out. It also helps to remember that unlike my mother, who works in Intensive Care Nursery at the hospital where our daughter was born, if I screw something up on the job no one will die. It's only eighth grade English. Worst case scenario: I prevent a handful of wealthy white teenagers from ever enjoying John Donne. I can live with that.

This is a job I'm really invested in, as I've mentioned before, and I'm going to be devoting most of my energies toward it in the months to come. There may not be much left over for adding to this site, so if the rate of posting drops off after this, you'll know why. Ain't nothin' personal. Mad love to my homiez.

Here's another picture of my twisted shorty.