Friends Being Friends

I have the best group of friends.

If you’ve been following my stuff for any length of time, you probably already know that. We seem to connect daily. And, as often as possible, we put together events where we can all see each other. A big group of us is going to Vegas, this summer. Maybe 30 of us. Plus family. That’s a lot of people invading Sin City all at once. I hope we’re ready. I hope Las Vegas is.

I’ve mentioned friends today because, honestly, I’ve expressed diffidence to some of them about my unnamed June writing project. 30 days straight of me, talking about stuff, is a lot. Especially when you consider this is only day three (or is it four?) and that means there’s, like, 187 days left to go.

I’m prone to hyperbole; I get that.

I’m also prone to use a word like “diffidence” when I could have just as easily said “doubt.” Writers like thesauruses, though. Especially the ones that give different words for things.

But when I asseverated trepidation to my cohorts in that fashion they each reciprocated magnanimously, asserting confidence in my proficiency. In other words, they all believe I won’t ever run out of things to say.

Even those who have placed bets against my success are otherwise encouraging of me. Some of my compatriots have placed a stipulation upon me, so that any day of failure on my part means a day of free beer on theirs. As happy as they are about free beer, to a man they don’t believe that will happen. They’re betting that they’ll lose their bet.

I’m betting they will, too. I don’t have the sticktoitiveness I would have liked to have had in life. I didn’t start taking my writing seriously until about 3 hours ago. Maybe a year. Something like that. But this thing I do, here, it matters a lot to me. Friends get that.

I wanted to say a little bit today about my friends. My emboldening, uproarious, complicated and, at times, outrageous friends. I wanted to give them a shout out, each and every one of them. I’d be a lot more lost without them.

Even when I question my own proficiency, they’ve encouraged me to do this. To persevere. To write. For me.

I won’t let them down.

I can’t. They’re my friends.

Plus, beer can get expensive. I have a car payment to make now. 😉

Author: Tom Being Tom

Tom writes a blog. When he’s not doing that he’s usually hanging out with Mrs C, his wife of 20 years. Together, they have two beautiful, golden boys. Literally. The retriever kind. Tom recently started a novel and is a member of one of the largest social groups known to man.

His worldview was formed by the strange intermingling of comic book superheroes, socioeconomic politics, the Air Coryell offense, and an atheistic spiritual awakening.

He intends to save the world next Thursday.

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