noddy

a 22-year-old ragamuffin from Timbuktu

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"At first, dreams seem impossible, then improbable, and eventually inevitable." ~ CHRISTOPHER REEVE (1952-2004)

 

Sup kids. I'm Noddy, a neurotic masked vigilante from the oh-so-small continent of Australia. Sometimes I write things. Sometimes people read them. Sometimes, both.

I'm devoid of cannibalistic qualities, so you're welcome to drop me a couple sentences in that comment box (Scroll down. Yes, that box), either about the way I shove words together, or about any philosophic moods you've been having of late. Plus, I like the time and thought that go into each one =]

This is your warning: I'm verbose in my writing. It's just how I do things. I like to write about things that interest me, and due to the fact that I pick up a new interest every microsecond, I drop projects like boys drop schoolbooks. I don't avoid any genre like the plague, unless I've tried and abhorred every moment and word of it. I'm openminded. I like quirky, witty writing. It makes me smile. My favourite word is: schadenfreude. No, I didn't make that up. It's above defenestrate and brouhaha.

I'm a procrastinator, a footballer (or soccer player), a painter and sketch artist, a philophobe and aeroacrophobe, and a blathering nerd with a peculiar fascination with the criminal psyche, WWII, Batman and other comic book superheroes and the hats that school cadets wear. While, yes, I do come off as a fruitcake, I make a habit of being fairly easy to get along with. I'm not one to provoke on purpose (Well, not usually. Not unless you're my geography teacher, who can take a little pushing). Compliments make me incompetent to speak to, but I can try and take them anyways.

I adore anarchists, The Portrait of Dorian Gray, Sarah Waters, Peter Pan, wordy prose, To Kill a Mockingbird, dystopian concepts, alternative history writers, Oscar Wilde, The Prisoner of Azkaban, realistic characters, JK Rowling, The Prestige, original plot twists, gothic novels, The Little Stranger, and Children of Men. I am incredibly, sometimes even imperiously, picky about my taste in literature. Sometimes, I get disheartened to the extent where I wonder if the standards to get published have been torn down like the Berlin Wall. I rarely ever, despite my age demographic, read YA fiction.

I smile when I skip without fail, know pointless facts, stress about nothing, sing in public, give my friends absurd nicknames, plan flamboyantly and rarely execute, buy op shop books and never read them, am studying Latin, am a slob, am a sloth, have never been kissed, draw, listen to music, eat when I watch TV, never go to the beach, put off homework, am prone to sickness, and am far from a one-track mind.

So, have you ever worn a cape?

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