I never gave serious thought to a career in writing, however, until much later. I always loved animals, see, and wanted to be a veterinarian since kinder or so. But that dream began to fade by highschool, as my priorities shifted and I realized I didn't have the natural talents that might open the doors to vetinary medicine for me. For one, I suck completely at chemistry and math. Biology's alright, but even that can get fuzzy if you get into formulas with me. So med school? No way.

So since junior high I started making up my own stories about things I liked. Mostly Ninja Turtles, because when I was in junior high the TMNT had pretty much faded from existance and the only way I had of enjoying further adventures from the reptile quartet was to create my own. So I drew cheesy little comic strips about them, wrote stories and plays all about my favorite heroes in a half shell. That fueled my passion for writing and art, and eventually new stories came, characters evolved and I was left with something that sometimes had nothing to do with the TMNT. I am at the point now where I'm completely independant from their influence (for the most part. An ever-young part of me still enjoys those cheesy strips.) and am seriously considering writing as a career. I want to write a book. I love science fiction, fantasy, mysteries and thrillers and just about any other type of literature there is. I love reading verity (non-fiction), but my forte will always lie in fantasy/action stories. And yeah, it's kinda vain of me but I'm my favorite author. I love reading whatever stories I've written. They're about stuff I like and are made just for me. I'm not trying to impress anyone; I'm just having fun. The thing is, I haven't written anything in some months. My job sucks, it takes all my time. And even though I would love nothing more than to leave UPS and strike out on my own, maybe finally have time to get something published other than poetry, I'm a poor Mexican. I've got bills to pay, mouths to feed n' shit. I've got responsabilities and I can't afford to get out of my nine-to-five to live out my dream. That really bumms me out. Because there's always the chance that I won't come out with a New York Bestseller (I'm no J.K. Rowling), that my book deal will tank and I'll have about 500 bucks to show for it in two years. Because that's how long it takes, approximately, to publish a book. Two years! I can't live off a job for two years! 'Ama can't hack it all by herself. That wouldn't be fair. And so I'm stuck here, venting on an online diary instead.