A while ago, I posted about the time I first left home. I moved, cold, from the city in which I grew up, to a city about 2,500 miles from it. I was kind of happy, for a while, but my troubles caught up with me. In the intervening years,
I have something that many people seem to consider a personality flaw – but less so as I grow older. When I was a child, I believed it was important to have “professional” relationships. Specifically, when I would go to an event where a specific thing was to happen, I
I am not, and will never be, “woke”. I don’t even really need to go into what the term means, as that’s not even really germane to the conversation. The word itself should be sufficient to not want to go anywhere near it. Without even knowing what it pertains to,
There is a reason I keep myself semi-anonymous on this blog. Don’t get me wrong. You could probably track me down if you wanted to put forth the effort. There are enough clues in this blog to get a general idea of where I live, etc. But I’ve intentionally made