Who am I?
I am a holiday miracle born two months behind schedule. I am a page taken from stories of experiences shared by many, told through my eyes. I am a hybrid of both good and evil, a line drawn between right and wrong. I am reason. I am purpose. I am an extension of preceding generations and a plow for those that follow. I am laughter in the midst of sadness and hurt and long lines at the grocery store. I am one without regret. I am.
I am the faint voice in your head that chuckles at all the dumb stuff happening around you, including the things no one else has the kahunas to find funny. I am an imaginary friend only seen by those who believe in the powerful healing of humor. I am what a French fry is to a burger. What peanut butter is to jelly. What sugar is to Kool Aid. I am necessary. I am.
I am the angel that sits on your right shoulder, steering you from wrong, and the devil that sits on your left, aiming rubber bands at the right when wrongful consequence serves a more valuable purpose. I am light. I am darkness. I am not always right, but I am never wrong. I am.
I am a life guide to all, a north star to most, refreshing to many, a love to some, an acquaintance to few, a friend to fewer, and a mystery to the remaining. I. Am. Hottywood.
A long time ago I accepted a responsibility from the heavens to show others that silly nuisances are nothing but fortuitous climaxes that fill one’s drama between plot and purpose, which automatically deemed me to be a run-on sentence for a reason of how and why “shit happens.”
I am because I have accepted my place in this world to carry out a legacy of rationale for those that have lost their way. In the hope of saving if only but one from the embarrassment of an unnecessary hardship, relationship, or pink slip, I have pledged to be a tour guide for questionability. My advice is more than just that. It is a journey. It is a reason for my reasoning. It is an answer of wisdom; the kind of wisdom your mother didn’t give you and the kind of wisdom only experience can teach.
Do you have a situation that requires advice? Are you ready for the advice that I have to give?
For more information on the book, click HERE.
The question “Hottywood, why do you write?” isn’t exactly a question I’ve never heard before. It is however a question I’ve never really thought about answering much. I guess if I had to answer it, I would have to say it’s my common practice to simply pick up a pencil and let my fingers do the talking. If there were a gun aimed at my head to re-enforce the need to answer this question in more detail, I’d say I write because:
1. There’s a gun pointed at my head. I write because at the moment my life depends on it;
2. Writing for me is like using the bathroom. I need to get some shit out;
3. Honestly, I write selfishly [for me first]; to clear my head, laugh at my stupidity & shortcomings, and to make sense of my own nonsense. On the flip side I’m not the only man on the planet that’s full of stupidity, nonsense and shortcomings. I write to make fun of those men, too. There’s no need to laugh at only myself. I can think of a million people to laugh at me. …well, maybe not a million. I don’t know a million people. However with that said, unselfishly I write so…
4. …others can relate my experiences with their own;
5. I write because I have to. It’s my duty. It’s my contribution to society. I write because I need to; because I want to; and it’s my prerogative so I can – I’m grown, and ain’t a damn thing anyone can do to stop me from writing, except break all my fingers, knock me unconscious, or aim a gun at my head. Um….scratch that. Maybe there is something someone can do to stop me. But if I live through it, I’m definitely going to write about it!