tacos, pop music (and why I’ll never be a real writer)

I have a fire in my belly this morning.

No, it is not from the tacos I ate yesterday. Though it could be adding to it, for sure.

What I’m talking about, really, is this thing bursting out of me. This need to say something, to read it out loud and give it away. I’m doing it for myself, as I’m usually writing for me. I suppose y’all get to see inside of that.

I watch the movie ‘Amelie’ from time to time. And what I love deeply about the film, is the description of what she loves and what makes her sad. The feel of grains — the fact her father thought she had a heart condition because whenever he came close enough to listen to her heart beat, it would beat so fast — or the sound of cracking the caramelized sugar crust on a creme brûlée.

But I start thinking of things in my own day to day – and I feel a bit raw today. Here are some things I’m going to lay down, for my own sake (some heavier than others):

I love the sound of my little heater.
It’s sorta loud, but it’s white noise, which aids me in my sleeping process. And because my house can be loud. It keeps me warm when we have no central heating upstairs. It makes me feel cozy. Yes, I am thankful for my heater.

I’m in the middle of a divorce. Whew. There, I said it. Boom. Pow. That’s loud, right? (Tell me about it.)

I’ve scooted around it, here. I’ve talked about separation, and that I’ve been going through hard times, but there it is. And though it’s loud, I still very much love the person that made the decision for us. I realize that people and times change, and that it’s just really shitty. I moved to Oregon for this reason, to be married. So now, I am adjusting to what it’s like to be single. Which I just don’t like. You can choose to sink, or rise above. Some days require a bit of both. But I am choosing to move along, because when another person stops fighting for you, there is a great emptiness. I have too much to give, to be putting it in a place where I don’t get it back.

I feel STRONG.
Some days, I feel invincible. Like I could jump for miles, sort of like the Hulk. (If the Hulk was a slightly overweight balding guy from the Deep South with no accent.)

there are days that I crumble.
I wake up into them. I notice I am alone, and that my day will be about feeding myself. And keeping my blood sugar stable and trying not to be too self-destructive. I will usually eat a chocolate chip cookie upon arriving at work. And I will probably snack on another again. I will drink a Mexican Coke, and once the bottle is half full, I will add some rum. Because, dammit, I just said the bottle was half full and that makes me feel better.

four crunchy tacos from taco bell.
My weakness. Especially after work. It’s close to home and it’s like, four dollars. Which some nights, is how much I get in kitchen tips. My roommates think it’s funny that I cook all this good food all night, and bring home Taco Bell or Popeyes. It is what it is.

I can tell when you don’t want to go out for a drink.
I rarely ask people to go out. Because I hate that feeling of seeing their texts “read” and them not responding. I assume they are hashing it out with their partner, or weighing their options. I do the same thing. But if you don’t want to go, just say no. That’s okay. It takes a lot for me to reach out, sometimes. Yes or no. Really, that’s okay. But tell me, so I can move on.

I’m tired of ‘think pieces’
In the words of Anne Lamott:

100 years from now? All new people.

Pop music is like dessert.
I don’t always have a way to listen to my music in the car, so I will listen to top 40, and I love it. Especially late at night, when I’m driving by myself and it’s a song that makes me feel fierce, along with the other 13 year old girls. Yeah, I dig it. But only in little bits. That’s why I call it dessert.


Sometimes, I dance in the walk-in at work.
Because what happens in the walk-in, stays in the walk-in. And it makes me laugh. And if that’s enough to jerk me out of a crappy day, I will do it. And because I think, if I actually tried hard at it, I would be okay at dancing. I have good rhythm, dangit. I come from a family of gospel singers. I can do this. (Which leads me to this…)

I miss singing. 
Somedays, I will find myself singing old hymns. I guess because they are lodged deep into my brain. But I appreciate it. Because old hymns talk a lot about being lost and struggling and finding a Great Light. And these days, I could use a lot of that Great Light. There’s nothing wrong with singing the Doxology when you’ve had too much to drink. Not that uh, that’s ever happened to me.

I don’t think I will ever pursue a book deal.
I just don’t think I’ve got that push. I’ve thought about writing a book several times, and talk myself down because I don’t really know what to say. It’s all been said before, anyways. I don’t like the pompous attitude that comes with being a writer. I write, like so many others, because I have to read what I say in order for it to make sense. It’s an odd thing. I keep pen and paper on me at all times, because I have some things I need out. Once I get it out, I can then decide what to do with it. I guess maybe that’s weird. Eh well.

I am always thinking on the brevity of life.
Not because I’m sadistic. But because none of us really have that long to live here. And I want to be the best kind of person I can be, while I have like, a second on Earth. I will worry about money and bills like the rest of the world, but I will think deeply about the passing of time, and enjoy others and the love that they give me.

i miss you,

and I’m not sure when all of this will be okay. but I can see that it will, and that gives me hope.

i have no regrets. 

my current legal name is Joshua Jacob Harrod Casper. I suppose, once the legality of ending a marriage finally settles, I will drop the Harrod, because it was her last name. But I love my family. They always be my family. Because I drop a name, does not mean I lose them. I was so proud to carry that name, and I love them deeply. Always, always, always.

okay, I’m going to go now.

thank you.

15 responses to “tacos, pop music (and why I’ll never be a real writer)”

  1. Are you able to share the restaurant you work at? I also live in Oregon, Beaverton to be exact. Sorry about the divorce, been there done that a couple times and it sucks. I am fortunate to have found my soul mate and now we have been married 2 decades now. Crunchy taco supreme is my late night food.

    • Hi. 🙂 I work at a place called Woodlawn Coffee and Pastry. We are a coffee/pastry shop by day, and Wednesday-Sunday nights we serve dinner til 9pm or so. Let me know if you are in town and wanna stop by and I’ll make some special arrangements.

  2. For what it’s worth, I think you could be a real writer. If not, you can always be a singer, lol. I used to love listening to the Classical Music station when leaving work on Saturday night… because they would play latin music (a lot of salsa, some rhumba) at that time. LOVED it!!! If it hadn’t been so late at night, I might’ve pulled over a couple of times and started salsa dancing in a parking lot somewhere.

    p.s. you aren’t the only one who’s danced in a walk-in fridge…

  3. Without the ebb, there is no flow. Things WILL flow again, I promise. And any time you want to go listen to, and sing along with some good gospel, I am down to join you. Praise him, all creatures here below:)

  4. You are Joshua Jacob Harrod Casper, and you are a real writer.

    I say this because I have read what you feel, and it moves me. Just as I am sure that it has moved others. I have gone through an ebb and flow of writing over the years. I always questioned the legitimacy of whether I was a “writer”. We may not be published, but so long as their are those who care to read what we think, what we know, what we care about, we are writers.

    Heal well, heal strong. Life will present to you new beauties, and I cannot wait to read about them in due time.

  5. Best. Post. Yet. I love your raw honesty, Josh. Your words feed my soul the way the food you cook feeds bodies. And just in case you were wondering, the words to the Doxology were originally set to a bar tune of the day. I mean, you do know why 11:00 a.m. is the typical church hour, right? Gave the Reformers time to recover from their hangover… 🙂

    Blessings to you,

  6. I get the divorce thing. Mine was finalized in April, and he remarried in May. If you think that sounds bad – it was to someone he’d never met before. Now that is the thick thud of the rock at the bottom.

    On the bright side – I picked my own last name. Damn it. Not my father’s, not my husbands, just mine.

    Well that’s probably different for girls.

    Anyway, I get it. And I’m sorry. You’re right, tacos help.

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