Why?

Why do I do this?  Why do I blog… or, even better yet, why do I write at all?  I do not feel naturally talented in the area of writing, nor entertaining… nor much of anything I actually enjoy.  I do, however, love to write.

I also love to laugh, and I wish I could laugh more often.  Few things make me laugh anymore.  My boys make me laugh… with their innocent comments and their grand expectations… and their silliness.  My wife makes me laugh when she tells me how goofy the boys were at this or how I would have loved to see that… my wife makes me laugh:)  Did I mention that I love to laugh?

So, why do I do this? 

I write to entertain.  I have no false hope that what I write will enrich lives or fulfill destinies… I’m not a fool.  I do think, however, from time-to-time, I can write something that someone, somewhere may find slightly amusing; that is what this is all about.  When I can write something that makes someone else think or, especially, laugh, I’ve accomplished my goal.  When I write something and it makes me chuckle, I have every hope that at least one other soul will find it amusing… even if that soul is someone I have never met.  Perhaps someday, that soul I’ve touched and I will meet and have a good belly-laugh about how much Nebraska sucks… or how much turning 40 bites… or how retarded half of the people on food stamps are…… or how great it is having a family that you could not live without.

My wife didn’t marry me for my wealth; when we met, I was broke.  If the status of my wealth had mimicked the status of my waistline, my wife and I would now be rolling in dough… but we’re not… and I’m fat.  Sigh.  My wife also did not marry me for my looks… I can make a dog howl just by sticking my face in his.  Sigh.  My wife stands firmly by my side, however, so I can bear the burden of whatever life throws my way.  I don’t know what my wife saw in me when she agreed to spend her life with me, but I’m glad she saw what she did, and I feel an unusual commitment to live-up to whatever expectations she may have (or have had.)  She saw something, and I write in hopes of finding what she saw… and unleashing it. 

I write because writing words that someone else reads makes me feel alive.  If I didn’t feel alive, I’d most likely feel… uh, I guess, dead?!?  I write because I don’t want to feel dead.  Who wants to feel dead?  I hope someone enjoys it 🙂