JAK

I would bash my head on the keyboard but I'm afraid of messing up the keyboard first, and messing up my head second.
Mostly because my head is already messed up, and my keyboard is the only sane one between us.

It's bizarre, the way the world farts. We get caught up in a whirlwind of life, of job, of love, of family and then the world farts (or hiccups if you're offended by farting), and voila, we find ourselves back where we started. It's not exactly full circle because of the experience we've gained over that missing time frame. But come back we do, and I think that perhaps, I'm finally ready to bow to the inevitable (we all will be assimilated) and admit that perhaps, just perhaps I'm destined to write.

Good thing I can depend on my husband to put the food on the table!

Ahh, it's a scary thing, isn't it? Accepting one's destiny. And a wee bit egotistical too, I might add. Who am I to say that my destiny is to write?

I do. And I am my own goddess.

Read on if you dare. I don't promise much sanity (though in reality I'm probably the most sane, down to earth person you're likely to meet - shh! don't tell anybody!), and I refuse to promise to be politically correct, or even polite. The writings to follow will however, be a dirty laundry basket full of tangled thoughts, feelings and other s**t dredged up from this recent life-fart.

You've been warned.

PS - how can some people post things on here without even the use of a spell check!?!?! ARGH!!