I started keeping a journal at a very early age.  My first journals were composed of pictures that depicted what was going on in my life at the time.  (Similar to cave drawing, but less violent and with fewer Mammoths).

After I learned to read and write, the quality of the journals vastly improved and I journaled steadily through my teen and high school years. 

 I was the only child in a very large family and I was always petrified that someone would find my journals and read them.  These were meant just for me and I recorded and detailed some pretty embarrassing things.  It is ironic now that I share my journal entries with the world, when this used to be one of my greatest fears.

 Motivated by this fear, (when I was about seventeen) I assembled all of my journals and stick figure drawings, dumped them in a barrel, added some lighter fluid and set them ablaze.  Even at the time I was doing it I wondered whether I was doing the right thing. 

 If I could go back in time and change that day I would.  I would have just burned the maps that showed where the journals were buried.  It would have saved me a lot of digging.

Burn Barrel © by gfpeck

Reginald was never a very patient man. He was decisive and expected others to make rapid decisions and then follow through as soon as possible. He didn’t tolerate hesitation in himself and he sure wasn’t going to tolerate it in her. “How to correct and admonish?” he thought.

He didn’t want to seem rude or insensitive, but after all he felt she needed correction and guidance. This would be painful but, for her own good. If only he could speak dolphin.

2012-6-13 Kick Ball Game © by Gamma Man

Clouds © by mnsc

I like watching clouds.  I don’t do it hardly enough, but when I do I feel relaxed and rejuvenated.  There’s a field (parking lot) not far from my house, and I frequently go there in the warmth of the noonday sun and lay back on the cool grass (asphalt).  I watch the clouds go by and imagine them to be horses or fish or giant cloud-like balls of water vapor.

It is easy to get depressed.  Trust me, it’s real easy.  So when I start getting down in the dumps and get the blues.  When I start feeling sorry for myself and thinking woe is me, I say to myself (out loud), “Hey, this is easy,” and I start feeling good about how incredible I am at getting depressed and just how plain easy it is.

And then I think (out loud), “What if we had to use the scientific names for all plant and animal species in our everyday language?” Boy that would be rough, and now I’m even more depressed.  Easy peasy.

Depressed - "Ursus arctos horribilis"

I’ve been working on my vandalism problem.  And as an outlet for my need to vandalize, I have been going into Old man Turner’s cornfield at night and stealing some ears of corn.  I don’t exactly feel good about this, but the way I figure it, is that it is kind of a victimless crime.  (No bad consequences for me).  I get such rush out of sneaking into the field and loading up on all the corn I can carry.

And just to clarify, when I say “cornfield”, I mean house and when I say “corn” I mean silverware.  Going to sell some “corn” at the pawn shop.  Do they sell acid?

The picture below is not me, but I thought it would be helpful for you to see what corn looks like.