I am a writer who doesn't write. I am always writing in my head, but I never actually commit anything to paper. I have done so in the past, just not lately; well, not for the last 13 years actually. I majored in journalism, so I know something about writing. I even wrote for a local paper for awhile, though not for pay. It was just a way to vent, publicly. Then I stopped. Nothing traumatic happened. I just stopped.
Today I finished reading a book. It is called Domestic Violets, by Matthew Norman. The book was written a few years ago and the main character is a writer who is writing a book. In the story, this character's father is a well known author, who's advice to his son was, "always listen to the men upstairs." He was referring to the men in his head. It hit me then that I have men in my head (or maybe women; it's hard to tell), who never shut up! So I decided to let the men, or women, out once in awhile. So here I am staring a blog. It's mostly for me, myself, and I, but if someone out there sees it, that is fine too.
As my title implies, I'm trying for humor (lol), here. You gotta laugh at life, or you'll be crying a lot. If I mange to make someone crack a smile, or actually laugh out loud, then my job here is done.
