Hot on the heels of enjoying the new, cooler weather is the requisite autumn allergies that plague me each year. I don’t know what I’m allergic to, but I’m guessing it is anything that grows and releases pollen into the air. That is a bit of over exaggeration, but you get the point. So I’m energized by the coolness in the air and simultaneously wanting to crawl into bed to sleep until Thanksgiving.
I’m also vaguely uninspired at the moment, most likely influenced by the gloomy weather outside. I have a story to tell, that much I’m sure of, but I don’t know what it is at the moment. I feel like I keep reading about how to be a great writer, but I haven’t found enough to write about to find my voice and be, if not great, an entertaining writer. Part of it may come from my point of view that I’m an everyman. I jokingly use the “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” quote “He’s just this guy, y’know,” but it has some truth.
You don’t know me, so why trust me? Why read what I write? Answers I can’t give, but I’ll do my best to give you answers.
So I’ll tell my story in fragments and memories and somewhere along the way hopefully we’ll both discover a common underlying theme to answer our questions and drive both of us forward, me writing and you reading.
Slainte!
