Writing

These 'your pre-approved!' credit card offers that I find stuffed in my mailbox almost everyday, along with the spam misspelling a loan approval I find in my 'bulk' e-mail, with a link to a site probably manned by a little foreign man in a basement that speaks like Andy Kaufman's Latka, reminded me of one of the silly joys of my childhood when my parents would get letters in the mail addressed 'occupant.'

I'd ask if I could have them and, yes, of course I could. I'd fill out the long applications for who knows what with crazy made-up names and goofy addresses and just laugh hysterically. My mom would look in on me and I'd try to stiffle my juvenile hysterics. And I'd get her to laugh to tears when I used to paste photos onto typing paper cut from newspapers and create fake news items.

It's been all downhill since then. I've never feared the blank page. There's no dread. I absolutely love to write.