Launch Day
I suffer from depression. It comes and goes but when it comes, man, it really comes, and when it goes, there's a little piece of me that worries about the next time. I know lots of people suffer from the same thing, and I'm pretty sure there isn't much I can do about it. For me though, I've decided that the one thing I can do is try and look for at least one positive, humorous, or noteworthy thing each day, and keep a little running journal about it.
That's what this blog is.
I decided a blog was something interesting for me to try. I'm an aspiring author, and I like storytelling. I like imagining I have an audience, and the best part about an imaginary audience is I can pretend you like anything I write. If you don't, well, there are plenty of places on the internet you can go, and I'll ask kindly that you don't bother replying to a post here. If something I write does spark something positive in you and you'd like to share, by all means, spread the cheer!
Today, I would like to tell you about my son. He's a boy. I mean that in the sense that there is some genetic predisposition ingrained in every boy to like sticks. The bigger, the better. If it has lots of offshooting branches and it's covered in dirt than it's even better. Of course, if you give a small boy a stick, and there is a small neighbor girl nearby wearing a pretty dress, he's going to want to take that dirty stick and try and poke her with it. I did it, my neighbor (the parent of the little girl my boy was terrorizing) did it, and now my son carries the torch of tradition on. I'll be quick to say that no permanent damage was done and I did put a stop to it. As my neighbor and I continued on down to our homes, I noted further that if there had been a fire nearby it would have been worse because my son, and any true boy, would have immediately set the stick on fire and tried to run around with it.
So, to all the little boys out there, I salute you. Grab those sticks, run around, and be boys. Just don't poke people with them. Please.
Enjoy your own little slice of awesome. It's there if you look for it in each day, no matter how tough it may have been.
That's what this blog is.
I decided a blog was something interesting for me to try. I'm an aspiring author, and I like storytelling. I like imagining I have an audience, and the best part about an imaginary audience is I can pretend you like anything I write. If you don't, well, there are plenty of places on the internet you can go, and I'll ask kindly that you don't bother replying to a post here. If something I write does spark something positive in you and you'd like to share, by all means, spread the cheer!
Today, I would like to tell you about my son. He's a boy. I mean that in the sense that there is some genetic predisposition ingrained in every boy to like sticks. The bigger, the better. If it has lots of offshooting branches and it's covered in dirt than it's even better. Of course, if you give a small boy a stick, and there is a small neighbor girl nearby wearing a pretty dress, he's going to want to take that dirty stick and try and poke her with it. I did it, my neighbor (the parent of the little girl my boy was terrorizing) did it, and now my son carries the torch of tradition on. I'll be quick to say that no permanent damage was done and I did put a stop to it. As my neighbor and I continued on down to our homes, I noted further that if there had been a fire nearby it would have been worse because my son, and any true boy, would have immediately set the stick on fire and tried to run around with it.
So, to all the little boys out there, I salute you. Grab those sticks, run around, and be boys. Just don't poke people with them. Please.
Enjoy your own little slice of awesome. It's there if you look for it in each day, no matter how tough it may have been.
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