I fear I have failed all of you, dear readers, during this month of August 2022.
I filed just four posts this last month.
In the beginning -- and I mean neither the Biblical beginning with Adam and Eve nor the scientific beginning of the Big Bang -- I filed a post every day. Mostly because I needed something to do. The hardest part of losing my job was that I love work. And as it was the beginning of the pandemic, I went from doing 12 to 14 hours a day to doing nothing but apply for jobs.
My mind doesn't do well without a goal.
I did apply for multiple jobs a day, I wrote a blog post each day, I worked on a screenplay -- which my script writer daughter said needs work -- as well as a stage play. The last uses the platform of "A Chorus Line" to describe the absolutely true story of how Rasputin's daughter was mauled by a bear in Peru, Indiana. As a side note, my kid likes that one.
But, frankly, life has been busy.
I love that I get paid to read and write for a living. Love it. When I was in fourth grade, when the nun was asking us children what we wanted to do for a living and everyone was saying fireman, astronaut, nurse, I said I wanted to write for a living. The nun said, "Mr. Jackson, no one will ever pay to read what you write."
I now say, these 50 years later, "Screw you, sister."
So I promise I'll do better to detail the minutia of my life.
One of my dreams was to have readers. Now that I have them, I need to do better.
Peace unto Ukraine and peace and words unto you my brothers and sisters.