Slapping Yourself.

I have successfully started this blog. It exists in cyber-space, even if it sits in a little ol' corner, surpassed in it's loneliness only by Myspace.

But I did it. 

I have to give myself that, I suppose. What am I rambling about? Well, I suppose I realized I have some kind of commitment issue. Don't worry Brittany, it's not with our relationship. It's with myself. I tell myself I'll do something, swear to it!, and these are the outcomes:

1. Forget
2. Remember and don't do it
3. Remember and start, then fall into apathy
4. Worry about it all day, then fall asleep at the time I should be doing it
5. Forget about remembering to not forget
6. Remember, but think myself so clever that I'll do it in the morning in A.P. Lit, even though I walk in 1 minute before the final bell rings. 

It's a vicious circle. Seriously, read it sideways and it has teeth.

No, it doesn't. If you did it, smack yourself. If you actually smack yourself comment, so I can laugh at you.

Not like this. That's a bit too much, unless you are really desperate to make me laugh. 

Now, before we delve too deep into obscurity, it's imperative to realize, NO I don't know what I'm going to talk about after this word, or this one, but this one knew because it went with the almost-clever scheme. And if the title told you something, you should know I title it last. I have a phobia of titles, did you know that?

No I don't. Slap yourself if you believe that. Comment if you slapped yourself so I can laugh at you. And there is a title: Slapping Yourself. 

Just before this, I was going through blogger, and bashing my self-confidence, because every 30-something year old dude/dudette had a perky little format, with a cheery header! Mine is only text. And I have not the slightest idea as to how to change it. 

A slight intermission; if you don't like streams of consciousness, then there's a little box you can click at the top right of your screen. If you click it, the page will disappear, but if you do, a Mongolian plumber loses a forefinger. Slap yourself.

The difference between knowing grammar is knowing you're crap and knowing your crap.

Made me laugh.

While I'm blabbering, here's a REALLY cool story by Jonathan Foer called "A Primer for the Punctuation of Heart Disease". It's only about 2 pages long, but it's freaking quirky. I was actually thinking of robbing his idea and putting a Legend on the side of the post-thing and use them in here. We'll see if I do. You know I have commitment problems. Sheesh. 

I love drawing. And steampunk. And other things. But drawing is prevalent here because I am taking Drawing in school. As a senior. It's pretty great. I realized I don't have the greatest drawing fingers in the world. I think my fingers were made to tie knots in shoe laces, but oddly enough, I don't tie my shoes. Anywho, I think some of my Drawings are pretty cool, and once I get them back from my "teacher", I will show them to all of you, my faithful viewers. 

I also read today, after putting my blog up on this Ghetto site called spreadmyblog.com (sketchville of Internet-city), that highlighting things makes more people read your blog. So, this "paragraph" explains this:

Snargleflraglesnagamapoolafloopydoopydootolorddolamiteaghoaklackasnackattackmaphloopy.

Now, onto some almost-business. I have not been called by Panera. This makes me angry. When I get angry, I say mean things. When I say mean things, people throw things at me. When people throw things at me, I have to get surgery. When I get surgery, I turn into a cyborg with a god-complex. When I turn into a cyborg with a god-complex, I blow up the world. So, Panera. If you want the world to remain in existence, I suggest you hire me.

Another topic: I have a nifty idea for a short story about the idealistic 50's, except the father has been feeding his children murder victims for years. It's rather macabre, but that's the fun part. If this idea ever comes into fruition, it will most likely do so AFTER I have finished editing the first five chapters of Harowhin's Story. Which I am close to doing.

I realized that it's so hard to write some of this earlier stuff because I have the whole thing in my head, and can't wait to write certain parts like dafdsgfakusifalisudfha;lisudhfalisdufgalsidufgalsdiyfgalsduyfbalsduiybalf, when alieufhlwieufhalwiuerfhal;iweufha;woeif;awoeirjaw;eoifhja;soifha;dfoiahoi and a;soeifja;iorueha;wirueha;siudfha;sdfioha;sdoifha;sdoifuasdoifua;sdoifuas;eofiu!

Sorry, I had to censor a bit there. Now, I will put up another chapter tomorrow or whenever I blog next. It is about Harowhin's visit to Trades and how he is perceived after the incident at Tayeth's stall last summer. It will mark the beginning of his maturation, and the story will pick up relatively faster from here. Also, I feel the need to inform you that another, VERY IMPORTANT character is going to be introduced soon, named Bursk. You'll find out more about him soon enough, pretties.

If you'd like to laugh, watch this:


If it isn't working, like I predict it won't, type in "Memorable Death #3" and laugh at a great scene from Princess Bride.

Don't forget to spread my Blog please! A budding author needs support, and so does an ego falling to shambles. Help me out, and thanks to my regular viewers for their support. It really makes me happy to receive comments and see my page views go up.

I have to go, my jellyfish are hungry.

Slap Yourself.


♥, Me