Writing. I have always loved to do so. So often, I try to write with a purpose, to have some sort of statement I want to make whether it be about experiences, God, life, or whatever. For some reason, I rarely write just for the sake of writing.

As I was sitting in front of my monitor attempting once again to write with meaning, I was struggling for the words to say, or even a topic to write about. For two minutes, maybe more, maybe less, I wondered what I was doing at the keyboard since I obviously had nothing to write about today.

“Well, Tom, you are at this keyboard because you want to write. Duh”, said the insane small voice in my head.

Here, this post, is the answer to that voice. Tonight I am writing. Just writing, nothing serious, nothing important, nothing that will even remotely make sense after you have read it. Maybe not. Probably not.

Who cares? I am enjoying myself, and I am blessed to have such a medium where someone will actually come along and read these unsystematic words which make no sense whatsoever. Frivolous. If this post were a lawsuit, it would be thrown out of court.

Of course this is not a lawsuit, this is just the meandering of a bald man’s strange mind. Have I ever mentioned that I am bald? Yes, I am. I shave my head once a week, and not with one of those dime store electric razors either. Nope. I go all the way and use the Gillette Mach Three. Now that sort of sounds like a race car, doesn’t it?

What an odd name for a stubble razor, don’t you think? Mach Three! Sounds like it’s got turbo, better watch out.

So as I was saying, I shave my head every week, completely bald and smooth. Over the years I have only cut myself up there a few times. You’d think it would be more, but since head wounds caused by extremely sharp objects hurt bad, I tend to be as careful as I can. Keeping the loss of blood at a minimum is a requirement when you are bald, since blood is the only thing still keeping your head warm (or so I am told). It’s also important because if you cut yourself, there’s no hiding it.

Well, I’m done for the evening. I wanted to write, and I wrote. I feel good, and you know what? I didn’t have to be serious or drive across any statement. I was free to just do what I love doing, and it feels pretty good.

Thank you for reading this foray into the madness of doing something just because I can. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I may be doing it again real soon.

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