I am what they call a dreamer.  I began blogging in December of 2008 after a failed gig as a pastor.  I was licking my wounds with the dogged belief that I had something left to offer the world, and reamofpaper.com, I thought, was the answer.

Turns out, I was wrong.  I got nothing.  And the dadgum internet isn’t very interested in God-type stuff because I am told it is filled with the pornography.  What to do?

So now I blog primarily about my lame life, my wife Molly and our three ear-splitting offspring: Nate, Noah and Iris.  Quite frequently our lives intersect with God-type things, so I still do a little bit of babbling about the same stuff I used to, but I’ve calmed down a bunch.

My dear wife returned to work because she is gracious and gifted with a more marketable skill set in our current miserable economy.  I’m not gonna lie, she hates my guts for this sometimes, but every-once-in-a-while she gives me that old look on which our marriage was founded.  Meanwhile I pursue my dream of becoming something of a successful writer, or at least the next John Steinbeck.  That is to say, I rise early in the morning and sit around in my underwear while I pen brilliance or garbage, depending on the day, until  10 AM, often earlier, as I am unfortunately dutiful.  I then shower and do productive things which rarely translate into REAL money.  I have a few paying gigs and a start-up business at present.

I semi-polish some of the crap I do before 10 AM and post that nonsense on this here blog: poetry, essays and the occasional work of fiction, but mostly just life.  Anything goes.  All I ask from you, my dear, dear reader, is a tiny portion of shelf space in your brain.  I promise not to take too much.

My Christian friends all have little, pithy “life-verses.”  Mine is found in Ecclesiastes 2, I’d give you the full reference except my writing space is warm and I am too lazy to get up to retrieve my favorite copy of the good-book.  It says: “So I hated life!”

And then I wrote about it.

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