Something the world may not be ready for

In case you've learned to ignore my bare 'Tomfoolery' page, I've added something special to it. So check it out if you're not chicken. If you're not "afraid", that is. Actual chickens are always welcome to view my pages so long as a friendly soul gives them Internet access. There are pictures, too, for a better viewing experience, because I care. Oh, shut your mouth. Yes I do. (I utterly and completely do.)

Let's face it, books are easier to stack

By happenstance, I've watched two true stories within the last two days: Soul Surfer (2011) -Bethany Hamilton overcomes a shark attack and becomes a pro surfer with only one arm- and October Sky (1999) -Homer Hickam overcomes his coal miner father's iron will and eventually becomes a NASA engineer. In both cases, these individuals felt an overwhelming need to seize a dream as aggressively as King Kong snatching that nice lady out of her boudoir. AND, as a bonus, they didn't get shot to death on the top of the Empire State Building.

All of this yummy mental food (with a side order of cheesy) has left me asking myself, "Am I listening to my inner voice and seizing my dream like a gigantic gorilla after an amphetamine enema?"

Turns out, my inner voice is too loud and obnoxious to ignore. Yes, (*shaking my head*) just like a gigantic gorilla after an amphetamine enema!

Writing is not just one of a million somethings in my life. It is "that something" that makes me feel right with the world. It grounds me when I'm in need of feet. It amuses me when I'm feeling lonely. It delivers me from myself when I need a break. It helps me make sense of the people bumping around on this planet. And it makes me breathe easier.

Do I need to be published to validate the hours -the years- I've dedicated to writing? NOOOO, people. N. O. My daughter may end up with a pile of manuscripts one day, or a pile of books. Either way, one thing's for sure! She'll end up with a butt load of sticky notes that make no sense, even when placed in order. (Sorry in advance, my Baby Love.)

It would be awesome to be published, though. If not, it's been a blast anyway. But let's face it, books are easier to stack. I'm sure that's why Steven King does it. His wife was probably like, "Look mofo, these manuscripts are all over the place and I picked one up the other day during breakfast and had to change my underwear before I finished my bagel. Get them out of the way before I start buying Depends and Prozac."

So Bethany, Homer (and everyone else with a dream), I feel you. I'm there. Okay, not "there", but "almost there and satisfied with my current location." I do not require a GPS at this time.


*I would like to note that while I reference and make fun of King Kong movies, I do not actually watch them because I am against cruelty (even the cinematic variety) of Megaprimatus Kong.