For All Those Who Told Me To Write A Book

I have been told by many that I should have been a writer for a living. Of course my grandmother did not think about the fact that supporting myself on my writing would have been problematic. Not that the life of an educator and a therapist is proving to be financially lucrative, but it does bring meaning to my life, and there is no amount of money that can purchase that. Bill collectors do not care about altruism. That should be a title of a book, but I digress. 

So I wondered if I did sit down to write what would compel me? What makes me laugh? What do I think about? What answers am I seeking to the numerous questions I ask? My 8th grade history teacher wanted my hearing checked because I asked so many questions. Little did she know, one day I would have a degree in philosophy. I wonder Mrs. Ray is now? Teaching in a big lecture hall where students leave their minds at the door and tape recorders on the chairs in the back. No questions asked, nothing learned, nothing gained. 

In any case, I have been sending out emails for years to my friends on my ruminations about parenting, in particular, so I I thought I would have this a new forum for my thoughts. I struggle with the ego part of this. That I have something to say that could be construed as important or worthwhile that people would want to read....But I shall put my best font forward.