In the beginning...

Last night I heard Junot Díaz speak for the first time.  That was all that it took.  I saw visions of my endless poems, short-stories and other narratives hidden in messy piles somewhere in an old closet.  I felt guilt and shame for that.  That closet also has some lost dreams so here I am starting up a blog for my creative writing.  And here you are reading it.  You there?  Is it just my parents and bro dutifully checking it out?  I crack a smile as I type this from my office at the institution at which I teach basic grammar concepts and simultaneously yearn to share critical thinking and creativity.  I hope.  I'm scared.  I fear I've misplaced precious pieces I've written.  I dread the idea of editing them, but mostly, I hope, dream and write.  Yes, I write.  I write.