"You know," my wife says, "No one is ever going to hire you again because you put it all out there for the world to see."
Sarah's mostly always right.
It's not like people are knocking my door down to get to me.
But what's wrong with putting yourself out there ... consistently and as honestly as you know how?
I honestly believe it helps others though it may not always be as beneficial to me.
It's true I share stories about Winston, our Little Gay Dog (LGD) ... my drunk ass Guardian Angel ... the Cat Lady next door ... the Palm Tree with the oyster eyes ... and Fran's 1000 Shades of Green ... which many claim are pure fiction!
But they're real to me.
There's also Bill Berry (not the former drummer for REM but the other one) ... my childhood friend Gene Prevatt ... Dedra, Mark and Mitch from College ... Jim Withers ... the Port Wentworth First Baptist Church ... and my grandparents Ira and Edith Carver ... all very real.
They're dreamlike ghosts from a different time and place but ... they're still real to me too.
Sarah's my reality, showering me in love and doing her best to keep me grounded though I seem to enjoy dreamful fantasy mixed in it.
"Wanna do lunch?" she texts.
"Hells Yeah!" I reply.
"I could go for soup," she says.
Where in the Hell do you get soup on an island?
Sometimes I think she's the one living in the fantasy world.
But we meet on another island and ... lo and behold ... there's soup!
She has cheese broccoli ... and I have seafood Gumbo.
All of that to say, I believe it quite healthy to engage in the dance between fantasy and reality.
Because when the two dance ... dreams come true.
Even if people think you're crazy for putting it out there.
No one comes calling.
And they'd be nuts to hire you.
Well ... unless they want to make their dreams come true.
