Beginings

I am dyslexic, and did not find out until I had already graduated from a major university and began a career with the US government. I'm telling you this, because even though I've always enjoyed writing stories, letters, etc. I've never enjoyed reading, nor have I ever been able to proof read my own work. I remember as a kid, I'd ask my Mother how to pronounce a certain word I'd come across in a book I was trying to read. "Sound it out" she'd tell me." How was I to "sound out" a word I had no idea how to pronounce??? My way of learning how to spell consisted of watching TV, hearing a word new to me then paging through the dictionary trying to find that word. Once located, I'd add it to my growing vocabulary, looking forward to using it in a sentence in front of my friends.

Fast forward to my teen years. The girls I'd written letters to must have thought I was really stupid. I'm talking about real letter writing. On paper. Using a pen! Even though I'd pre-write a letter. Look up as many words as I could before writing a final version, invariably, a large percentage of my words, both simple and complex were misspelled or incomplete. I'd read the letter back to myself before placing it into an envelop sprinkled with a little cologne, but what I would read back was a recording. My mind would ignore what was on paper and recall that which was in my brain. So, I would never be able to see, really see what I had written on the paper, unless I'd but the letter away for a month, making it more difficult for my mind to access the file. I f I had grown up in today's society of computer's an smart phones, I'd doubt that anyone would notice or care about how I spelled words. Written communication has become lazy. "How r u?" for "How are you doing?", etc.

So, what's life all about? How do you deal with the shit thrown your way? Do you unwittingly create shit for others clean up or fall into? As I said before, I like to write and create stories. I've not been formally trained as a writer but formal training has never stopped me from traveling down new avenues of life. Although most of my book are fictional stories that teach about environmental awareness, I felt the need to write a self help book about the meaning of life....and shit. Why include shit into the meaning of life? You'll see.

Thanks for reading. Please go to my website if you'd like to see books I've written. And as a qualifier, I don't plan on proof reading the entries to this blog. It would take me forever to complete. Life is short and so is money.