charlemagne

As a young lad, just before I helped Alcuin invent the Carolingian minuscules, I was an indifferent speller. My second grade teacher despaired! "I don't know if I should pass Charles. All he does is daydream in class. If he'd get his head out of his..., he might aspire to a career shoveling s__t--with a teaspoon!" I made up the last sentence of her remarks, but you get the drift. I did try the teaspoon bit, by the way, and then I despaired! Eventually, I discovered chopping with a sword was much more fun, and the rest is history.

I never did overcome the daydreaming curse, and it is with great difficulty, sometimes, that I wrench myself from the fog of complicated plots woven around the latest object of my love (or lust) to tackle the real world of "blood, sweat, toil and tears." (Stole this quote from some insignificant Englishman!) The real world is, of course, a place where life is "nasty, brutish and short." (Another bloody Englishman!) My world of daydreams isn't much different than the real world, now that I compare them--only, in my daydreams, I never lose!

I guess I always wanted to be a D'Artagnan. Instead, I am an anachronism!