You'd never believe it but eleven years ago tonight, I sat in a juvenile detention facility, surrounded by adults I didn't know and kids I didn't want to know. Other than being in DT, there wasn't much difference between that night and any other. They fed me Lima beans, which I had no opinin on previously and now despise. It was so cold my ass nearly froze to the lidless commode. Like today, it was a Monday. I was sprung by Thursday.
yes, it was a horrible few days. I don't want to go through it again. I've avoided brushes with the law as much as possible. And still I would not trade that day for almost anything. So many things would be different if that day had not happened as it did. Who knows where I would have gone? Who knows what I would have done?
I wouldn't be here, writing for you now. I would not be in college and so would not be the editor of the college newspaper. I wouldn't have moved when I did, meaning I would not have met some of the best people I've known. (Those in Payson, Reno and Las Vegas especially.) I may never have embraced my love (and, humbly, talent) for writing.
Not every day since then has been a good one. I've had some very bad days (and occasionally, a few bad weeks). There have been some really great days, too. Just becuase some of those great days were immediately followed by the bad days does not make them any less great. (I have to remind myself of this constantly.)
I do have a point. Really.
Shit happens. Sometimes the bad shit turns out to be the best things that could have happened. In won't seem like it at the time. It can take years for karma to come back around. Eleven is a good number, don't you think?
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