So why blog?

    As a writer, this is what I desire to do.  What I'd always wanted to do. 
    Of course I want to get a readership and learn as I go along to my goal .. to become a published writer. 
    But, you say, you are.  You are blogging.  This is writing.
    Ah, I respond in kind.  But I want to get paid for some if it.
    Which, naturally would be the ultimate goal.  To become a "paid" published writer!
    On my car is a peace sign -- two fingers making a "V"  with the words "write on!" on the back passenger's side of my car, the banged-up Mazda CX-7 which desperately needs a body repair.  On the back driver's side are the words "Look Ma!  No hands!" in salute to my mom who passed away almost five years ago.  She knew how much I loved to write poetry.
     On the rearview window are your complimentary AAA sticker and two denoting my elder son, a U. S. Marine.  He'll be home from boot camp in about a month.
     But getting back to why I'm blogging.  I want to!  I want to write and share my honesty while getting more into my writing.  I'm reading various styles of writing in random search of my own variation of the "written-yet-spoken word". 
     I'm in my favorite room in the house, my den.  It's scattered with books and magazines.  Paper lanterns are hanging in one corner, while unfolded clothes are strewn upon the brown sofa I got from my deceased sister.  (Suicide.  More on that later.)  I have a bulletin board, movie posters, whimsical word art from Wal-Mart, a color television, and plants.  The blinds allow the November sun to filter  inside.  I have a thing for lions.  I have a few stuffed ones, including a Simba from the Lion King Musical I'd seen with the Husband a few months back, my college mascot, and a couple more stuffed ones.  I have an Egyptian Cat figurine on the book shelf to my left.  To the right of my monitor sits a lion mug with my pens and markers.  To the left of my monitor sits a picture of my late parents .. my dad passed away last December.
     On the floor is a picture of Ernestine Shepherd, the Guinness Book record holder as a 75-year-old national body builder. 
     My precious pup, Kovu, the Wonder Dog, is laying behind me playing possum.  We both had a blog on MSN years ago.  Now, I'm on Blogger doing it again.
     This is where I'll spend a lot of my time writing. 
     This, friends, is my haven.