What, me blogging?

As suggested by someone important in my life, here I am blogging. For years I've resisted the temptation of joining the masses in the blogging frenzy that has plagued the world. I've always considered the "blog" to be just some sort of new-fangled, fancy buzz word to replace the old-fashioned, "pen and paper" journal. Nor, did I ever have anything to say, or at least I thought I didn't until recently.

I've always wanted to be a writer. I suppose that's fitting, since I've been told by my mother many times that I was an early reader. Now, there really isn't much from my childhood that I can remember, but that's another story. What I do remember, though, is that I was never content to check out books from the library. You'd never know it by the high stacks of books I would end up leaving with. What I really mean is that I always viewed books as a treasure to be owned. I never wanted to return them in the two weeks or so that was required from "borrowing" them. I suppose that's why I have such a hard time getting these things back to the library on time today. So, in an effort to actually become a writer, and by the suggestion of one Cynthia J, here I sit writing nonsense to get the ball rolling.

I have to make clear on one thing before embarking on this journey of psychotic thoughts. I am not stealing this title, nor am I plagiarizing it. It is a tribute to my dear friend Cynthia Glass, the artist, not the doctor. It is a song from her infamous album, Witchball. I'll promote it if she wishes. For now, please enjoy my nonsense words. Have fun reading, and don't take them too seriously, after all it's "Nothing Monumental".