More . . .
I like that word. Maybe I like this word because I want more too. I want to see more. I want to do more. I want to feel more and I want to learn more. I would certainly appreciate more meat on my sandwich and, of course, more ways to enjoy life on life’s terms.

I want to understand more about my life and your life. I certainly want to understand more about the world around me and, if at all possible, I want to learn how to get along more and fight less. I want to define more ways that we can overcome instead of overwhelm.

This one comes with a comedic twist. At least it is intended to be funny and with hopes that this clears something up which is important to me. I offer this note to all foodies and friends who love a good meal. To those who can relate,
I offer the fact that there are meals which have turned wrong. There are trusted meals too – the “go-to” ones or the special favorites which come from historic moments in our lives, like when you go out to grab some wings with friends.
Even these meals can go wrong.
It happens . . .
I used to hear about food poisoning or about someone eating something that had gone wrong. I’ve heard about the terrible bouts after eating something and the vomit or the awful visits to the bathroom.

Before I go forward, I would like to explain that this comes from a special place where little pictures of crayon drawings exist in a father’s heart. This is where art-class productions on construction paper where little kids trace the outline of their hand and somehow make this drawing into a turkey for Thanksgiving. Through this, little kids bring home these finger-painting ideas to be pinned up on refrigerators around the globe. Or in my case, this is where I keep my memories of a time that can never be retrieved.

In this entry you will find a bit of wholesomeness, a bit of laughter, a dose of honesty – which may seem brutal at times- but either way, honesty is the necessity of truth and the truth is the basis of humility.
Therefore and without any further delay, I am asking you to shift gears for a bit and allow this entry to act as a porthole into my life; in which case, I would like to share with you a few precious moments – or as I see them, I want to share a few magic trinkets of memory –

There are so many places that I haven’t seen and things that I haven’t done. Will I do them? Maybe, who knows?
Will I ever see the sunset from the beaches in St Tropez or St Maxima, or further south at Bormes-Les-Mimosas? Will I ever have the chance to sink my feet into the sands in any of these places, which are more like dreams to me. There are fantasies of fancy names of places that are written in travel columns and make the mind go, “hmm, I wonder.”

I’ll say it again, age is a funny trick. I’ll say that yes, in the days of my youth, I thought that I was funny. I thought that it was funny to remind older people that they weren’t so young anymore. I remember being told by my older friends and relatives, “Just wait and see!”
But me, I never thought I would grow old. I never thought I would have certain conversations with doctors about things so humbling like, for example, I never thought it would be me who sat across from a doctor and heard them ask about setting up a colonoscopy.
I mean, really?

I would like to preface this with the idea that lunchtime has always been a great way for me to separate the day between morning and evening. And it’s not just what you eat; it’s where and with whom. But all of this changed when the month of March came around in the year 2020. Everything closed and everyone was told to stay home; unless you were essential. Even still, there were warnings and mandates and news about the upticks of infections.

It’s amazing to see the differences between them and now. Then again, it’s amazing to think about the ideas of a life before the pandemic or life as it is now, post-pandemic, or “where we are now,” which of course is an interesting thought.

I do believe in a cosmic sense. I believe in the vastness of the sky and that, in some way, there is a purpose for everything.
I do believe in the compilation of our stories and the main events of our lives. From this, we become, we grow and we learn. Whether we move forward or quit, I know that there is an answer. I know there’s something we’ve all been searching for; and more, I know there are times when we passed an opportunity or there are times when we wished we turned right instead of left or left instead of right.

I have been asked about these journals and my reason for why I involve us together or why I personalize this and always include “you” as part of my story.
Well, I think that before I answer this, it is important to explain that yes, I am one of those people who talks to themselves. Not only do I talk to myself, but I’ve been known to argue with myself from time to time. If I’m being honest, I’ve lost a few of those arguments as well. 

In a short entry, I want to express something special to me. First, I want to be clear that I do not blame anyone for my past or my decisions. However, I do say that had I met with people who care for me (like the way they do now) then perhaps I might have been encouraged to keep going or try a little harder and never give up on myself.

I love this. . .

The following entry is written as more of a stream of conscious format. This is me in a sense, emotionally venting but also hoping that, yes, we can pull things together in a way that helps everything make sense.
Either way, the sun will go up and down and the moon will find its nightly pocket in the sky. Either way, the day will turn into night and the night will eventually turn into sunrise. Either way, this is life. Together we are no more different than we are the same.