I’m raising a child right now. Her name is Dissertation. She keeps me up all night. I dream about her. I worry about her. I think about her while walking the streets of New York City. She’s got me. I’m on her schedule. I have headaches during the day, and when I rub my shoulders, it sounds like I’m popping bubble wrap paper. The more I pay attention to Dissertation the more I learn about my life story. It’s weird. She expects me to guide her, to make her something that the world will appreciate, and that scares the shit out of me. But she’s my responsibility. I can’t let her down because I love her. The times when I think I’ve got it all figured out, she tells me to rethink my assumptions. And I’m pretty sure that since giving birth to this life of words, I’ve gained at least 10 pounds. Thank god for Malbec and Idris Elba.
Yes, boo. You right.