Sometimes I wonder if I'm boring. Well, not me personally. I'm pretty sure that I'm reasonably good company. I have a fairly good sense of humor and can interact in most social situations with ease.

Amend that to: I wonder if my journal is boring. I don't usually come up with wildly entertaining or erudite entries. I don't make sweeping (or even mild) statements about the political climate in which we presently find ourselves. I don't have deep resonating advice concerning the writing industry, because after all I'm still plugging away as a very-barely-published so why the heck would anyone want to listen to my advice on writing and being a writer?

Back when I was a street cop I think my journal was much more interesting. I had some way-cool-nifty Life Experiences as a cop which I occasionally shared with the world at large. People who are interested in the day-to-day life of a deputy can go look back at the archives of my journal. But now? I have a desk job. I sit in front of a computer. I still go after bad guys, but it is nowhere near as exciting or interesting. I don't get to give you details of the latest foot pursuit, or describe what it is like to try and jump over a chain link fence when you're only 5'6" and it is NOT as easy as it looks in the movies especially when you know that there's a bad guy in the very near vicinity with a gun.

Sigh.. See? Now the only neato stories I have to tell about police work are where I say, "Gee I looked at some more icky porn." Oh don't get me wrong. I love my job and I still believe that what I do is very important. But is it interesting to my readers?

And other than police work, I journal about my darling daughter who is, of course, the absolute delight of my eyes and joy of my world. And I sincerely hope that my loyal readers don't get tired of reading about Anna's latest accomplishments, because trust me, you're stuck with them.

Jan 27: 1999
Jan 29: 1999

Jan 30: 2000

This day: 2002