I am definitely not a professional writer; I don’t even pretend to be a good one. I just get the urge to write now and again, especially after reading an exceptionally well-turned bit of prose from creative minds like Jimmy Sizemore and Anna Bedsole or inspirational journeys like that of Cliff Rybick. Since this is my first shot at it, I’ll just go with what’s on my mind.
Those of you who know me also know that my name is not Marie. At least, that isn’t the name I go by. I chose it as my nom de plume because of the influence of a Sunday School teacher from my senior year in high school. He always made it his business to find out your full name (first, middle, and last) and to call you by the name you did not normally use. He frequently urged us to do the same with anybody we met, because asking such a personal question as “What is your middle name?” opened the floor for other discussions heavy with eternal significance. So, I have told you my middle name. What is yours?
The most recent issue on my mind has been my utter dislike of golf. It’s funny, isn’t it, since I willingly awoke at six o’clock last Saturday morning to go sit out at the seventh hole of the Joe Wheeler course to take pictures for our church tourney. But by the end of the day I certainly was not willing to have any more to do with that game. I have attempted to explain my contrariness before, but as an INTJ I often have difficulty illuminating my thoughts for others. The best I can come up with is that I dislike missing out on hours of quality time with my loved ones while they are off hitting little white balls with sticks and then chasing them into elusive holes. Not only that, but seeing that they will keep on loving the game as I continue to avoid it…knowing that in voicing my opinion too often, I am acting like an impetuous six-year-old who wants Daddy to come away from his tool shed for a tea party.
I hope that none of you are such avid readers that you check this page every hour or so for updates. I write sporadically (or not at all) at worst, and only once or twice a week at best. As I am not satisfied with my personal work until it has undergone substantial review, a day or so may pass between inspiration and publication. So, I’ll see you when I see you. Good night.
