I'm forcing myself to write more. If this is what I think I'm going to do for a living, I have to practice, right? It doesn't make perfect, but it makes (I make) words. I could become a word, a piece of language itself, with a little practice and a little confidence. Live amongst them and learn their ways, gain their trust and when the time is right, exploit them for my own gain. This will be the first toe in the waters of conquest, I'm stealing language right out from under it's keepers. Proper English, the kind no one expected me to learn to speak or write, will redeem me and give me a voice. It will be my armor.
It's time to aspirate, remove the blockages, and breathe. Open the passageways and hope that the words I've been taking for granted remember just how good I can be to them. It's been a time of negligence and self-indulgence. A lapse into forgetfulness, a loss of responsibility, attentions spread too thin. I apologize. And I'm back, for real this time. I promise.
Your Humble Conquistadora,