Diary entry June 20, 2010

Dearest microsoft word:

Since I’m dead on balls accurate that only you are reading my thoughts in this exact moment, I dedicate this journal entry to your rather extensive company. Word has always been dear to me it seems. After six years of typing away essays and articles for my bachelor’s degree, I find myself free from your tiring bond but somehow nostalgic at the same time. Will we ever meet again in my professional life? Only God knows… and later on… only Bill Gates, for sure.

If you must know, I am currently sitting in an old antique chair that belongs to my grandmother’s, hence I am at her house. Hurray, I am smarter than a fifth grader. Sarcasm: angers ugly cousin. Indeed. 

I am here celebrating Fathers day. Where is my father? Over there near the liquor table where my other family members lavish at their new found hobby: searching for an acre for all 8 of them to live in retirement…God knows when. I was there just a few seconds ago listening to all of them. That’s all I really do here in the Maldonado Clan… I mostly listen. Hardly ever speak. Why? I don’t know… bull… yes I know. People only say they don’t know in order to have more dramatic flair to their 15 minutes of monologue. I do know.  Truth is, I’m listening because doubt overtakes me and somehow manages to convince me that although I bear their last name, in theory I’m not at all completely like them.

Wait... I’m mistaken. Just as I write this...Whatever it is, my grandfather Tato Maldonado, fueled with Don Q watches over my shoulder into this rather interesting page. He asks me what I’m doing. 

Hence I begin to explain to him what a Microsoft word page really is. Can you believe it? I’m actually advertising you guys to an 80 something year old man intoxicated with liquor. Actually, quite a charming man when under the comical influence of Puerto Rico’s finest rum. This is the guy that every time he gets drunk he starts preaching the most beautiful sermons that I swear, if given a microphone,  many would convert to Christ. And yet, I find myself thinking maybe Jesus does see that nature in him, and probably laughs and smiles at this 80 something child. I say I am from the Maldonado Clan, because when I look into my grandfathers eyes, without any doubt, I see my own looking back. Honey colored eyes looking at me with love.

I do belong. Sorry for these lines of unedited bullshit. It wont be the last time. Trust me. But like I said, I do belong with my kin. Halleluya. Now, where is that bottle of Don Q?