Writing Challenge: Overlooked is Under the radar

I am not really sure that this quality or characteristic about me goes overlooked, but I think that it is not really recognized among humans named Mark Coulbourn, humans who are 52 years old with red/auburn hair who love apple pie and are tremendously smart. Hey! That is just like me! However, the world doesn’t seem to appreciate people with these virtues like they used to. Oh, I didn’t mention the virtues of writing, traveling, and a list of other things that I am rather do okay.  But, we weren’t necessarily talking of me, eh? I guess I sorta let the cat out of the bag somewhere in there. Where was it, the apple pie? Everybody knows that I am one of the only 52 year-old men who still loves apple pie and named Mark Coulbourn. I always get this stuff on Face book that says, if you are the only Mark Coulbourn, press here or put in your secret password. Who the hell do you think I am? Is there another Mark Coulbourn between here and Venus who loves apple pie and writes voraciously? I think not. Oh, if I pretend to be pissed? Well, it is simply one of those “illusions,” mystical things. Unfortunately, I can’t really get pissed these days. I mean, it takes a real lot big deal to get me mad. Sometimes, I wish that I could get angry but it is beyond me. I suppose there are worse things in life, bigger problems to deal with. I would have to say that I am quite a laid back and relaxed kind of person. Some people don’t realize the extent of my “laid backness.” I am a writer and out of work, but that isn’t uncommon these days. But all of that  equals a very much laid back me. My general outlook on stuff is: take it all in stride; where is the fire? So I would have to say that the stuff about me that goes over looked is, well, I imagine not much. I just want to do my own thing and stay under the radar. My goal is to be “overlooked.” Actually, I should say that my goal is to be “under looked.”  Also, my goal is to let it all ride and let somebody else do all the talking. People, not even those who think they know me best, generally don’t know me at all. Only a handful of people know many of the pieces that make me out to be me. That is me.


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