Lately I’ve been torn between two projects. As a type one diabetic, food is important to me. It has to be enjoyable since I practically bleed for it in a fashion, so I became a competent cook at a fairly young age. This was before I learned traditional flavor profiles and as a result, I’ve refined a number of strange, yet alluring recipes. The ongoing battle of putting together a cook book is cutting into the lifelong battle of putting together a collection of my best poetry. It’s hard to budget time in a world full of distractions and discouragement, but I aim to have a copy of each on my shelf in the next four years. Even if I have to print and hand bind them myself, which happens to be my third passion.