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Blackberry Lemonade

I love being an author. With that being said, I often am asked, why do you write Memoir pieces? Hmmmmmmm, I usually answer with some wisenheimer answer; why not?

Honestly, I love observing life. There is a never ending amount of material to work with. I am one of those folks who could get lost for hours just watching people doing normal or not so normal things with their everyday faces on, going through their existence. Look at the boom of television reality shows. People are fascinated with real life or what they perceive to be real anyway. Maybe, it is my cynical realism that I look at our time here departmentally, in chapters if I may. Everyone has a story.

I’m just the story teller. I am blunt, direct and an acquired taste, but you never will wonder what I am thinking. Think of a blackberry. It is uniquely different from many of the fruits people usually gravitate to, but yet it is attractively unusual at the same time. It tastes sweet, but sometimes leaves that annoying seed in your mouth. It makes you think about eating it the next time, but again you are oddly drawn to it. My only professional qualifications are casual observer and opinionated pain in the butt. I am one of those people who others tell their stories to for some reason. Maybe it is because I listen and watch everything. I honestly do care sometimes too. My analogies are usually derived from a parental experience and I never offer advice beyond three simple things which fit pretty much everything. If you are unhappy with what you have, you have three options. Live with it, change it, or make the best out of it you can with your circumstances.

Overly positive people nauseate me, negatives annoy me and non-committals frustrate me, but all make for a good story. You just keep doing, I will keep writing! Just always remember that old saying, “When Life gives you lemons” . . . .

I say . . . . Blackberry lemonade anyone?

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