Well... this is my very first attempt at this blogging thing.
I've been told many, many, many...many, many, many times how I'm too hard to get to know, and that I never speak, that I should open up, and talking is the cure to relationships. Even though I "respectfully" disagree, it's hard to argue with a pop-culture assumption such as this one. I still wonder, though, how do the the monks do it without talking so much and get along so well?
Anyway, this is my first self induced help at opening up. I don't even know if there is a soul out there that will give a shit about what's inside, and I'm afraid I'm gonna scare the hell out of my wife's pants once she starts to dig too deep inside me, if there's any depth inside my mind that is. Maybe I'm so shallow that she will just laugh at me.
Wish me luck?
2 comments:
"I still wonder, though, how do the the monks do it without talking so much and get along so well?"
- Well, because they are men...
I believe you are a very indepht person and yes, there are many scary things hidden inside of your soul. I've been priviledged to see into some of them, but I believe your wife knows you much better than you think too.
If she's put up with you all these years, she definitely knows the peson she's waking up every morning with.
Since I know you like dark peatry I will share this poem with you and maybe we can engage in some sort of discussion about it. It really got to me and I shed tears as I read it for the first time. I am sure you will like it even if you skip the tearing up part. I also expect you to read MY BLOG and comment on it.
Good luck with the digging and keep in touch and HAPPY FATHER'S DAY
'Do not Stand at My Grave and Weep'
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!
Mary Frye (1932)
OK so is this going to be your ONLY attempt? still waiting....
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