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If you DO want to know, welcome to my blog |
For those who actually want to follow my thoughts, ideas, moans, and gripes, this is the place for you! For those of you who are returning...I questions your judgment, you poor souls. 
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| I’m a selfish guy. I freely admit it; but I think many, if not most, introverts are. My hobbies are writing, drawing, creating music, and road-hiking. (And playing Minecraft. It’s my only “gaming” endeavor; I loathe most other video games, save for a quick board of Super Marion Brothers now and then.) These are all solitary ventures. The only things I do in groups are play cards or watch TV, pretty much. I’m not a very good conversationalist, either. Usually, about 5 minutes into a conversation, I’m asking myself why the hell I started talking to a person in the first place. All I really want to do is end the conversation and go away, probably to write about how much I hate having conversations. Imagine living with a guy like me, where the only interaction is about the dogs or about how much a character on the TV irritates me, where my idea of a good time involves a quiet room, my dog, a pad of paper, a pen, and my computer (because I can’t read anything I write longhand, pretty much). I’m “a dud.” I know this because I am reminded more frequently than seems polite. No dancing, no bar-hopping, no parties where everyone secretly has some axe to grind with everyone else but smiles like sharks at everybody instead. Yep, I’m in introvert, a dud…a writer. I finally came to grips with it about 5 years ago. "Quiet Little Heart"  is written about that a-ha! moment of reconciliation. I am, at last, able to admit I am stingy with my time and my thoughts. I am more likely to reach out only if someone says they need me. I am content to give what I have mostly to the blank pages before me. I keep to myself and tend to draw in…but that doesn’t mean I don’t give back at all.I do give back. I give my stories. I give my drawings and my music. At least, I offer these things. Whether they are accepted is no longer something with which I trouble myself. We all like a gold star now and then, but if what I offer is not desired, I’m content to keep it to myself, even to hoard up my stories and sketches and songs like some artistic Silas Marner. So I offer this blog of random thoughts with which you may or may not identify. I offer some stories, poems—maybe even a picture or two (if I’m rich enough to afford that level of membership—I’m a miser, too; I'll save that for a different blog entry). But I made them all on my own, in my own little cave, in my own little world. I know a little more about me now, you see, and I reckon maybe you do, too. I’m selfish and self-contained. I’m an introvert. I’m an artist. I’m a writer. And I wouldn’t want to be any other way. |
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