I am born ... and I guess that means something

For awhile now I have been wanting to jot down my thoughts onto paper, just to get them out there; so I guess this will have to do. I have tried to blog before, many times, since my sophomore year of high school and each time I would have a really good go, and then everything would come to a halt. It seemed like no matter what I did, I didn't have the time or the energy to type up a cute little post just to say, so I would just stop writing. A year would go by and then I would revisit all of my last posts and wonder why I ever stopped, because it was nice just to write.

Upon thinking about how great it was, I would decide to take it up again; only to run into the same old problem. I would get so excited an build up the anticipation of writing, that when it came to writing the stupid thing I wouldn't have anything to say.

At this point I feel as though I should apologize for any grammatical and punctuation errors that you might have notice, but I have made it a point to myself not to go back and correct any problems with my sentence structure, because that's when I would usually edit the shit out of anything that I would write, and I'd just start all over from nothing...over and over. (<-------perfect example of my run on sentences.)

I have thought over and over about what I want this blog to be, but the running theme of my thoughts has been 'my life.'

I know it seems strange that I want to write about my life, but I guess there isn't anything that I know more about than my own life, so here it goes.

Almost 24 years ago I was born.

Don't ask me the time of day, because I can't remember at the moment, so I guess we'll just have to move past that.

I was born to my parents: Michael and Grace.

I was given my fathers name as my own first name, while the second became the one everyone now knows me by: Jeff. I always asked my parents why they didn't just name me Jeffrey Michael, but they never really gave me a definite answer; so I just assume that they don't really know either. Lord knows that I prefer being called by my middle name than being referred to as a 'Jr.' Blech

Apparently when I was born, my birthday just happened to fall around Easter time and I was given a mountain of stuffed rabbits, hares and bunnies to last me for the rest of my life...or so they thought.

This is bunny...or rabbit...

To be completely honest, it doesn't even have a name...or a sex for that matter, but then again what newborn has the foresight to name the stuffed bunny that will somehow manage to stay with them for the rest of their life.

Sometimes I wonder how I can be so connected to a bundle of cloth and stuffing, especially one without a name. I've tried to name it before, but nothing ever stuck, and so it will probably be forever. There are nights when I'm feeling especially down or lonely that I'll still cuddle with it.

It's actually a miracle this little bugger survived me, since I had a nasty habit of swinging my stuffed animals around my head by their ears. Needless to say, a good majority of my furry little stuffed critters ended up ear less.

So yeah, that's pretty much it. 

I was born.

People were happy and I guess I am too. It's nice to have been born.

Unfortunately I feel my writer's block coming back for the night, so I guess it's time to end this little post. I don't know when I'll get the urge to write again, but I'll make sure that it's sooner rather than later.

Until then,