The Truth

I guess this is the right time to explain why I am doing this blog stuff. Well I don't really know.

I felt it was time to get all this crap that has happened in my life in the past year out for therapy sake. Yup therapy. I had been calling this guy in Winnipeg for sessions for a while now and he said if I wrote this all down I would feel better or could understand what happened and come to some kind of terms with it.

It seemed kinda cheesy at the time and being the manly guy I am, thought it was a waste of time and energy.

Then a friend of mine said he was blogging and loved it. I immediately didn't believe him either. But he was a friend and this did seem to be similar to what the doctor ordered. And I guess if there is feedback in what I am writing I guess it could help that person too.

Opening a dialogue about the past events, I guess is the key to helping myself. So blogging it is for now until I am told that my writing truly makes people physically sick to their stomachs. As I said before my writing is not going to be in the annals of great Canadian literature. although I would like to take that Margret Atwood down a peg or two. Could you imagine if there were literary awards for blogging. And the room falls silent an the spotlight illuminates the overstated podium where a man with a handlebar moustache and balding head with the faint stench of mothballs approaches with a single white envelope.

"And the Literary award for best blogging nominees are....Pierre Burton, Charlie Farquarson, Cameraguyrob, and Margret Atwood. And the winner is........Cameraguyrob" And the audience falls silent and a collective gasp can be heard and a single pop of bubblegum thunders through the auditorium.

That would be awesome. I'm sure she would send out her minions of man hating fans to Tanya Harding my ass. Or just follow me around and observe me from afar until I am driven crazy enough to hand deliver the award to Margret and apologize for any inkling of a thought that a man could ever live up to the greatness of the suppressed, feminist, literary genius that is Atwood.

A bit too far? I guess it is. But her and her kind still give me the willies. crazy right turn in the writing is over now.

For now this is gonna be my therapy and your thoughts or suggestions are welcome as long as you know I realize I ramble and stumble through this process.

So for now that's it and you now have an understanding why this has come about.

Ciao for now.