So, here I am, writing a blog post just before 0100 hrs in the morning because I woke up at 2300 hrs and couldn’t go back to sleep. What do you do when this happens? I rolled around for a bit, then got up and decided to be somewhat productive. I paired my wireless Trekz Titanium Aftershokz earphones to my iPad and listened to a General Conference Talk by the President of the Church while reading along in the “Ensign”. I had never tried doing it that way before and it was kind of neat. It definitely demonstrated the Prophet’s skill in speaking. He’s 95 years old, though — I figure he’s had some practice. After that, I studied some Latin using an app called Duolingo. That’s a lot of fun. I’m not doing too bad. I could be doing better on the leaderboards and advancing in leagues more quickly, but I don’t really care as long as I don’t get demoted. If you try at all, chances of getting demoted are very slim. Anyway, I’m having a good time learning some basic conversational Latin. I enjoy it. It actually sheds a lot of light on quite a few languages and their roots. Languages fascinate me. Now I’m writing a blog post that you’re going to read perhaps four to six hours from now and think, “Wow, you have some serious sleep issues!” You would be correct in saying so if you chose to. I can’t deny that I have chronic sleep issues, but that’s due to PTSD and there’s only a limited handful of things to be done about it. Trust me when I tell you that the Doc and I are doing everything we can to straighten my sleep out. Some things you just learn to live with. After two decades of it, you stop fighting it and start using it to whatever advantage you can. I hope this post finds you as well as can be. I’m going to work on my novel, now. Thanks for reading!
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.
