So, I’m seeing that some people actually like these wacky blogs that Ive been writing….but….I see no comments. So feel free to leave a comment…I don’t bite….not hard anyway. I remember when I started to take an interest in writing. It probably started way back when I was a kid, back in the 70’s. I was a different type of little guy…like my son a clinger. Meaning I always asked questions whether they were stupid or not and would cling to mom or dad like a sucking worm. Ive always seen the world as a big huge source of adventure too. I was taught early early on in life how to surf by my dad when I was 8 years old. So as time went by I became obsessed and extremely driven when it came to surfing. I surfed with some of the best in San Diego back in the 80s and 90s. But there was something missing in my life, I seemed to always be searching for something that didn’t really exist. At least not in the material form. I think it was happiness. I mean just a feeling of warmth and contentment that we all search for. It cant be achieved by buying stuff or drinking or eating. Its a feeling and I am sure many go to their grave not experiencing it, Thats sad. I think my own dad was searching too but when he got sick it didnt humble him. It pissed him off and caused him to become depressed. Then two years after the onset of his illness he decided it would be be best if he just went ahead and ended it. Thats when he jumped off a 200 foot bridge in San Diego California when I was 17. He just said fuggit, plain and simple. I could of said that too and came close, in fact I wonder how many of us are that close. Probably lots. Then I read in the paper that suicide leads the race in deaths over traffic accidents. That’s sad. Many of these deaths are because people lose everything. But really what do we lose by losing everything material. Nothing if we identify ourselves as just who we are. Everything if we choose to identify by what we have. So that again got me that what is the battle to hold onto all the shit. It doesn’t make us happy, it weighs us down. It really does. So in the end I think for everyone, all of us,, there has to be a happy medium…its never all or nothing….never. If you feel that way…think of me. Im living with Aids. I take medication that fucks up my teeth, gives me horrible dreams but its keeping me alive. I have salivary gland disease which means I dont make saliva like normal people. I have to take pills for dry mouth. I don’t look like I have Aids so I dont act like I have Aids. People I meet would never guess…but I know and it hurts. It was my fault Ill admit, I played and got burned…what can I say…Ive always had a weakness for pretty women. But now…I see differently, I see that sometimes things don’t work out the way we expect. That’s ok,because Im still alive. I can still play games with my son and st’ll run on a treadmill and get around without a wheelchair. That makes me happy. And write…which is my passion and I honestly love creating new stories. So when I wrote my autobiography I really just wanted to lay it all on the line, to just say fuggit….maybe it may help someone…my struggles,successes and failures. After all this life really is just one big journey….isn’t it?