Five minutes in my psyche

So I was thinking about this website the other day. I was trying to come up with some rules for what I was going to do. When was I going to update the site? How often would I post topics? How many times during the day would I restrict myself from commenting on something I'll see or hear. I couldn't think of anything. And then I thought, 'You know what? This is my website and I can do whatever I want.' Isn't that the point, anyway?

I think so.

My wife has often told me that she'd like to spend five minutes inside my head. I do not think that is such a grand idea. Besides the various female body parts, the cars, memories about great pie and wedding cake I've experienced, and the other random nothingness that impulsively fires the synapses in my brain, five minutes in my psyche could leave her more damaged than even I could imagine.

From book ideas, book dialogue, mental notes about researching snippets of history that I'll eventually ADD to a book, and the inconsistent decisions I make where any of my novels are concerned, most people would need a map to figure out how in the hell they got so turned around amongst my thoughts and memories. A good bit of the time, that includes me. My uncle was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's (sp?) when he was in his fifties (if not very late forties, I'll have to ask my mother). For a long time, my memory has been crappy, and even when I'd like to use it as a crutch, I don't always remember why. LOL! Just kidding. But even with my family history staring me in the face, and the prospect of falling into the same mental quick sand, the space between my ears isn't for the faint of heart.

So, without rules to guide me, and having forewarned you all that the things you're going to read (and maybe reread, and then email your friends about) in this blog....okay, I've succumbed to calling it a blog 'cause that's just easier....you'll learn more about me than maybe you thought you would. Don't be scared. I'm here for you.

Who's got the map?