Carlos Mesa Pla
I am a writer.
One evening, during my second week staying at the Oasis Hostel in Granada, Spain, a new roommate had arrived. As I was sitting on the top bunk of my assigned bunkbed, I saw a mysterious older man who appeared homeless and unbathed. He had long brown dreads, a ripped white tank top, and cut-up jean shorts that were once pants. He looked like Tarzan in his sixties.
Listening in the distance, I hear a creek roaring, echoing through the forest. I am sitting at a picnic table, enjoying the wind and the mountains. The clouds are dark and stormy. Hopefully, my small tent can bear the weather. I’ve placed rocks around it to hold it down and I am praying to the sky to be nice to me tonight.
I Am A Loud Typer And It’s My Passion
I woke up today and knew I once again had to follow my passion: bothering strangers until they rip their hair out. I do the same thing every day, and I genuinely love my work. The hours are flexible, I make zero dollars an hour, and I can empty a coffee house in less than ten minutes, surprisingly with something other than my odor.
How Meal Prepping Ruins Your Life
You’re in your mid-twenties. You realize you’ve gained thirty pounds since you started Door Dashing a Wendy’s 4 for 4 every day. A quick Google search reveals that meal prepping will make you slimmer, healthier, and over time, able to voluntarily leave your couch. Off to the grocery store you go. Your neighbor stares at you in shock: you haven’t left your house in a week. You’re thinking, “Yes! Finally, I can be healthy,” “This will save me time and money,” and “I can’t wait to look like John Cena if he was 5’4.”