"...into little tangents..."

Huzzah! I claim this page in the name of Chris, he who is known in this realm as Spiderwriter. C'mon, don't judge me too harshly. How often is it that a person gets to proclaim boldy that something is entirely their's. I dare someone to do it, it's quite fun. The next time you're in Starbucks or BurgerKing or Target shout out for all to hear 'This is mine! Huzzah! (yes the huzzah must be included).

I, me, myself, He of little attention span, memory, or...uh *face-palm, Drat, I forgot where I was going with that. I think if I just jump into the body of the thought that perhaps it will makes more sense since I've already wonderously flubbed the beg...begining (no that doesn't look right. For some reason I end up with the most typos when on this site, and I thought I'd share my frustrations over a word with you)

The Beginning

I think I spelled that right this time. Anyway I was going to talk about...my wrtting style I think. I'm not so sure now, I can't quite recall even though it's only been a span of a couple of minutes perhaps. I like that idea, though. My Style. I'm not really sure where my odd sense of voice came from, perhaps from the good mister Douglas Adams, author of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I read that book I think a solid three times in one year during my days as a little ol' middle schooler. Wee li'l me couldn't get enough to the fascinating way he broke into little tangents and off ends that fit so uniquely into the story. I've just finished reading the story again in fact. I loved it so much I had to own it, so I bought it from the local book store.

Gah (a synonym for ugh ((a grunt of displasure))) I'm sure I had something more worthwhile to say when I started this. Reading over all the stories and learning the various tidbits about the other writers along the way I had thoutghts such as 'Wow, I, too, often don't feel like I'm much of a writer' and things like 'You don't worry about stuff, hey, neither do I,' but now it seems like I'm trying to hold water in my cupped hands... You see, it goes like this: I get countless ideas in a matter of a very short amount of time, I'm an idea type of person, but when it comes time to express those ideas, especially in print, my head can't grasp on to any one thought and everything I've done thought up just goes whoosh or some other appropriate (I apologise for the upcoming misspelling, but my dictionary is far too out of reach) otta-matta-pia

I think I just stumbled upon why I enjoy words and language. I'm an atrocious speller. I really am horrific when it comes to certain words, but I still love language and that's because for every word out there, there is another that means practically the same thing. So it I can't spell one word for whatever reason, I can always fall back on another and look up the one I wanted at my leisure. Yea!

Hopefully no one was reading this at the start of thier day because I'm sure this could serve medically as a literary sleep-aide. So, without further ado, I leave thee be to go cook some Ramen.

The End

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