Writing about something everyday is not the problem. I have stacks & stacks of hand written articles/essays/blogs/columns/what ever you want to classify this work.

Going to aa computer lab, editing & typing the work up is the problem.

When I put pen to paper, when whatever I want to write about is “finished” on the page is “done”, I exhale the weight of work out of my body & mind, and I feel satisfied.

Publishing this work online is a commitment. And it’s work.

I was reminded of that in a phone conversation with my mother, Kim.

THIS IS WORK!

My kind of work. And it won’t go away, thank god. There was a time I wanted to abandon this. This thing that I do.

But I can’t.

Not just the constructing. Not just the writing. The editing. Walking my butt out of the apartment to the computer lab, choosing an image – all these are work.

Working for nothing.

There is no financial gain in the work that I do.

In the larger real world, I’d be better of (financially) abandoning all the dreams, burn all hopes & goals & get a job at McDonalds.

And that is not a joke.

I have been blessed/cursed with a small income.

I am far, far, far away from Rock Bottom.

But what is gained from the work?

A dangerous question.

An important question.

I have to admit to a certain joy at knowing a small amount of people read the work. I take joy in still having the mental ability to write.

Brain damage was a very real possibility for my future. But, at this moment, I can do it. I can still put down the words.

Are these important words will be seared into the Hearts of Humanity?

Probably not.

I’ll probably not go down in the history of Great American Literature.

And that is okay!

Acceptance is a part of the program I am working – that I am living.

I accept this is all for me.

I accept iy may seem like a joke to others; that this (writing a blog) is a waste of time.

Then I get some reminders.

Monday morning: I woke up, checked my watched (a compulsive habit) saw it was time to get up, and my mind raced to the next thing I had to do: check the phone.

There was a message on my phone from an out-of-state reader of my work.

She wanted to know why I hadn’t posted anything in a few days.

She was worried I had not been writing. A “red flag” she called it, and she was worried.

That day I posted something; the next day, I posted something. The day after that I typed-up a story, but did not post it because I believe it offended & upset someone.

I wrote about a Thanksgiving dinner with my parents.

I wrote helping a poor woman having to move because her drunk boyfriend threw her down a flight of stairs.

Writing is not the problem.

Publishing online is.

Today: there is NO excuse!

I needed to get on this website! And I needed to let you, The Readers, in.

And here it is, Ladies und Gentlemen.