In any given day, I like to spend a moment enclosed  in my mental abode, peering out the small, glass window.  There, roaming through the countryside, exist a number of dreams I've long sought or passively considered.  It is a greener pasture, though largely removed from my habitat.  Sometimes it is nice to just cozy myself on a windowsill, perched silently as I take in my surroundings; a place where time looses its hold on my feeble existence.


Unfortunately for such day dreaming, my office space is in a basement room with no windows or doors.

Here's another secret for you, but I'll be charging for the next.  I know less about comic books than others might have you believe.

Shhh, let me share with you a secret.

At times, I like to hide away.  You see, I have my own personal timeshare in the back of my mind.  One in which I have the luxury of running away to at a moment's notice.  There's no other tenant, save for old dreams and cobwebs and a comfy, rustic chair perfect for reading and thinking.  In fact, I own more of it than I might like to admit.

It's accessibility is a comfort, though perhaps also a curse.  With ease I slip from public view, into a world far away.  Behind watchful eyes and ears, I sit secluded with my thoughts.  My artist's table here is full of many ideas, while my typewriter is curiously perched next to a trash bin full of copy.  But most of all, here the inner turnings of my brain are strung out like laundry needing to dry.

I've made trips while at work, or simply while at home.  At parks, and plays, and some beach days, I have stepped aside to my shaded abode.  Sometimes boredom encourages me to move, and sometimes emotions will urge me to leave.  Unexpectedly-unmet expectations can also find me rapping on my own door, where I retire my presence for a while.

At times, it is a benefit for me to have this alcove of my own.  Here I spread my creativity like seeds and water them, waiting to see how they grow.  Their roots may become entwined and breed new ideas, budding in different seasons.  On more despairing occasions, I bottle emotions like forbidden wines never to be opened or sampled.  Vintages most terrible and abused, though something seems to unseal them from time to time.  They always have a way of unsettling her.

A product of younger years, my hideaway is never far but there are days I wish it were.  And then there are days where I go to my secret place.

I have this really bad habit of sailing my ship to the whim of changing winds.  It's not something intentional, and I'm sure it drives her crazy.  One week I might be raving up and down about a particular project, item I am considering buying, or game I would like to play.  Maybe it's a product of my "boyness," or perhaps I'm irreversibly, attentively disordered.

I also like words.

Personally, I perceive my willfulness as an extension of my empty-headedness or maybe it was thick-headedness.  Largely, I apply myself poorly... if at all.  A lazy mind, is afterall, the devil's plaything.

For example, I love to visit blogs and websites on a myriad of topics.  Pick a week, and it might be a new topic.  Or it might be one I previously read about and am returning to.  I stopped reading political blogs for awhile, but then I started covering video game news.  After that, I moved on to board gaming sites, while ultimately resuming my political readerships.

And though I enjoy sharing my sea-faring tales, one day I hope to find an anchor.