Random thoughts and stories from growing up Southern and Poor at Route One Dacula Ga.
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From time to time I have sat down to write in a journal. But to no avail! What I wrote was seemingly interesting stories to me but, to others, might come across as meaningless babble and very boring. However, it does give one’s soul a chance to cleanse its trouble mind. What will this troubled mind write about? Who knows? Tics maybe, dog ticks, bed ticks, politics, all kinds of tics you know? Love, Life, Death. Religion. Happiness. Sadness. Dogs. Cats. Birds. Snakes. Past. Present. Future. I before E except after C and in words that just break all the rules, like ‘their’ and "ancient" never really understood that one. Why not all these things and more, every person has events that happen to them and shape their lives as well as the people around them. I think if taken in the proper perspective, they can be reflected upon and just maybe find a little life lesson and humor in them. As a song writer once said ‘after all it’s what we’ve done, that makes us what we are’ R The stories that follow may be just what I said earlier: Meaningless babble. Or maybe someone might happen upon these stories and pull just one changing opinion from its pages. If they can indeed form their own opinion (sounds like a story for later.) This may be as far as I get. I tend to be one of those people who never finishes what they start. From journals to playing the guitar to quit smoking to my golf swing, But this troubled mind is determined Mr. Journal. And I will continue to write and find my inspiration within your pages or computer screen as the case may be. Lets us begin…… |