Comfortable. In my own skin.

Putting one’s life in perspective. Maybe that’s my biggest attribute.  Jotting down my thoughts. My musings. My broodings. My reflections. Doesn’t matter what they are called. As long as the stuff I put on paper or a computer screen, make sense. To me. Doesn’t really matter. If my thoughts make sense to others. Fine and dandy. If I reach the outside world. But that’s not most important. Better that I understand me.  My motivations. My values. My goals. So that I can deal with my life. Effectively. On a daily basis. That’s why I write. Hardly ever go a day. Without writing. It’s a compulsion. An addiction. Fortunately, a positive one. And I write. In a style. That pleases me.  In words that I understand. Yes, once again, that’s more important. Than swaying others. Into my fold, my orbit, my realm. In the process, I’m learning. To manage. My intellect. My emotions. My spirit. Yes, even my physical being. The gamut. The meaningful things. That give credibility to my life and soul. So that I’m comfortable. In my own skin. –Jim Broede