Carni-thingie

Following a conversation I've been having with someone, I've been prompted to troll through the vast, seaweed forest that is my memory and write about my first completed piece of work, or the first time I've ever felt like a writer.

This of course presents its own set of problems, because I can't for the life of me remember my first completed piece of writing. I mean, I know I was in second or third class and involved some form of digging, but other than that its a blank. I think I won third place for a poem on fire-safety in sixth class...don't think I still have that on file, but I won a book voucher which I immediately spent on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

So what are the firsts that I can remember, and can I remember any particular feelings attached to them? Hmmm. The only two that come to mind are the second poem I posted online, and the story "Shadows Crawling."

Should I post them? Who knows? I mean the guidlines were to write about them and the internet, being an abstract entity is unable to offer any guidance. I've always taken it that "write about" means reference as opposed to post... I think I'll just post a link to red can and let you crazy kids do the rest of the work.

Red Can
http://www.writingforums.com/showthread.php?t=48544

I've only just realised that I have 58 poems posted online. 58. Christ, I thought I only had ten or something like that...

So...onto the whole "feeling like a writer" tangent. Short answer, I don't. Longer answer, I've never really considered myself a writer, though I couldn't tell you why. Maybe its a lack of confidence, a fear that accepting the fact would make writing work and consequently less appealling. Who knows?

All I know is that I started largely as an attempt to get a few things out of my system, and that my first attempt ended up as a long string of highly cliche, meaningless prose. So of course, good old me took it bit too seriously, and when someone else suggested writing about a common object in an interesting way, I thought "why not?"

So, common object, and I was wracking my brain for about a day over this, before I just thought, can of coke. "But you can't put coke can in a poem" said I, so after many seconds of intense thinking red can was born.

Thinking

I hate being lower than the keyboard. Seriously, the edges of thetable start cutting into my arms and it just puts me off typing. I also hate the fact that to feel vaguely comfortable I have to then lean the chair forwards and risk slipping and breaking the computer. Then theres also the fact that this bloody laptop has one of those touchpads for scrolling which is always on even if I have another mouse plugged in, so if I hit the pad even lightly I end up clicking some random part of the screen and it just...well it's irritating.

Now I've forgotten what I was going to say...erm...bollocks...ah!

A fair few years ago, back when I was somewhere between the ages of five and ten (we'll say seven to keep it nice and simple like) I went to visit my granddad's house with my dad. Now, I remember being fascinated by the funny stick between the two front seats (which I now know is called a hand-brake). Now bear in mind that grandad's house is at the crest of a hill, at the bottom of which is a T-junction to the main road and a stone wall.

So I'd experimented with this stick before, and was unable to make it go down, even though dad was able to press it down easily whenever he started the car. This time, while the car was sitting on this steep slope, and my dad had gotten out to greet grandad, I decided to try out that stick once more. Of course this time I managed to get it to work, resulting in the car rolling forwards down the hill with my dad sprinting down beside the car, shouting something I can't remember. I just reached in and pulled the stick back up again, and the car stopped. Everything after that is a blank but needless to say I left it alone after that.

Still, I don't think it occurred to me then how much danger I was in (it never does, in retrospect), but it's been coming back to me recently, especially at quiet times. I'm not sure why. Maybe its one of those stupid, sorry for yourself or insecurity stories. Meh. I'm just hoping that writing about it will exorcise it. Or something.

I guess this is me.

Like a fox.

Names, Names, Names

I'm really running out of titles here, but then again, if you categorize things by title, well...you know what, let's just not go there.

So...what am I thinking...? Conversions? Blog update? Random story ideas? Continuing conversations? Question marks?

Oh! Now I know!

Full stops.

A-yup. Yet more patented, insightful and in-depth thinking from your friends here at Nuggets'O'Wisdom Inc. Nuggets'O'Wisdom: If you don't get it, we don't care! (I could probably make a quick buck from that...)

Be the cactus. That's my message to the world.

*sigh* Someday I'm going to have T-shirts made to honour these phrases.

I think I might be slightly bipolar... Actually, you know what, enough with this thinking crap. I've had it with thinking. Thinking's never done me any good. The phrases "Bipolar disorder test", "Attention Deficit Disorder Tests" and "Asperger's Syndrome tests" are being googled right the hell now and the Internet shall bow before the sheer awesome and godlike awesomeness that is me, laying the items I seek at my feet.

(And yes, I know that the internet, being lacking in physical substance, vis a vis hands and knees, is unable to either kowtow, acknowledge the law of nature that makes me automatically more awesome than everyone else, or lay anything at my feet. But, and this is a big but (go on children, laugh) anyone who brings this up will have secured a place on my "to slap" list.

*sigh*
Bi-polar... check the boxes, bring list to your doctor... 6 ticked boxes out of...twenty-six. Next. Another tick the boxes thing... scored a 25... 25-35, bipolar disorder likely. Hmmm. Next. Yes or no answers...meh, 5 yes, a yes and a minor problem. Next. No, no. Result: Inconclusive.

ADD...nope, nope, nope, maybe...nope... Result: unlikely.

Aspergers...test 1... scored 24, 32 and above indicates...go figure...next score, you are unlikely to have aspergers syndrome. Hmmm. Result: Unlikely.

I need hungry. And while I'm on it, how the hell does one do justice? I mean if there was a person or creature named justice it'd be possible but otherwise... Its like "doing" lunch really, which is just plain disgusting as opposed to having lunch like everyone else.

...

Seriously if I saw someone "doing" lunch it'd probably scar me for life.

This is me breathing.

Like a fox.