Made a pasta dish for the first time, or at least I tried. The penne pasta came out great, though. Choosing to celebrate the small wins! Was I deluded into thinking I was too good for the fool proof spaghetti, or was it the novelty of cooking something I couldn't pronounce? I would never tell.

I just read a story about a man who was incarcerated. Every night as he lay awake thinking of the horrible place he was in, he'd hear the whistle of a train in the far distance and wonder where that train was going. Here I am, walking down a random street in Queens and see this track. I am unsure of what train runs on it and don't believe I have an idea of where it goes but I stand here as a native of this city and wonder why I don't know. We all have heard the whistle of our own personal train at one point or another in our lives and the majority of us have never bothered to discover it's path. Most of us won't ... simply because, most of us don't have it in us to find out. But the man in the story did. I admire that. Life is a very difficult journey to tread but we all must believe that where ever we are, at any given point in time, there is a whistle being blown ... we could either just hear it for the rest of our lives or actually figure out where it's going. I heard my whistle in the middle of the night too. It told me to start writing. Where ever my words take me is where I'm supposed to go because that's where my train was always headed. I don't call myself a writer. I don't even know the rules of this game ... but I've never not played anything in life because I didn't know how. I'll learn along the way. I just know that if I am to be called a writer, one day, ... I'd best sit down and just start writing ... about, anything. So, here I am.