I’m working off and on today. More off than on. I find myself repeatedly picking up the book I’m reading, The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. I’m almost halfway through it, and wow. What a powerful novel it is so far. So raw, so real. A true glimpse of a character that one can understand and relate to, which is not always a good thing. There are ugly parts of ourselves we don’t like to admit to others, or even to ourselves. In real life, the main character, you, me, is rarely the hero. This novel, so far, highlights that point in such a heartbreakingly realistic fashion.

So you can see why it’s hard for me to tear myself away to write something as inane as my next column. I represent the lighter side of life until I’m ready to delve deeper — the deep of me is best suited for a novel or screenplay, so much more than can be said in a thousand or so words.