This will be the third time that I’ve erased my first sentence and started again and I can’t completely decide why. Perhaps it’s just been so long since I’ve put my thoughts down on paper (virtual…paper) or maybe it’s the fact that the new grammar app I’ve installed is trying to convince me that “a while” is not actually two separate words. Awhile. It’s strange to think that I’ve never considered that maybe they were supposed to be together. They look much more majestic apart. A part? I’m not sure I know for certain. For weeks now, I’ve been considering that maybe my talents in writing were being wasted but I can’t, for my life, figure out how to properly utilize them and I guess that’s why I’m doing this. That, and I can’t justify going back to school. So I’m venturing into the chaotic novel that is my brain to see what I can pull out of here. The piano music playing in my ears makes this all feel and sound a lot more profound than it’ll probably be to me later. I feel limited by the fact that I can’t get my mind to settle on one particular thought before it jumps to the next. My head is a constant run on sentence which is ironic. But I hear people love irony in literary work. I have all these projects and ideas that I’m bursting at the seems to execute, but I can’t even perfect the preliminaries. I guess what I really mean to say, is that I’m feeling a bit inadequate. In these moments, I realize that I’ve dipped my toes into plenty of types of sand but never found one that I felt secure enough to build a castle in. Since this is the only aspect of any “talent” I’ve ever shown some sort of potential in, it makes sense that I cling to it. I’m pretentious with my words. This initial bit was supposed to be thoughts as they come. Which, if I had stayed true to that tactic, would have translated into the fact that I dragged my ever-patient boyfriend on a three-hour quest for Dippin’ Dots today. Or that I actually said “binano splat” when I ordered the banana split flavor because I’m pretty sure my brain is a Tumblr page at this point. But, instead, the things I spend the most time writing about are the thoughts about thoughts. I should change my technique.
When I was…younger, I got my foot caught in the wheel of a bicycle and fractured (sprained?) my ankle. I ended up on crutches and in a cast that went all the way up to my knee. Mobility was a fairly dim memory for me for a…while. Instead of going to recess with my classmates, the teachers let me sit in the lounge with them (and eat their spaghetti which was significantly more tasty than whatever slop they ever served us for lunch). They would give me books to read and workbooks to complete and honestly, it was some of the most fun I ever had throughout my entire elementary career. I didn’t want to go out and play dodge ball or tag (mainly because I remember one kid getting tagged so hard that he fell on a pencil that someone dropped and somehow got it stuck in his ass cheek). I wanted to immerse myself in these magical pages, these still life inspirations with all of their possibilities. I wanted to go to the places I read about. Especially the ones that didn’t already exist. Because I was able to MAKE them exist solely using the combinations of letters and sounds that the authors so cleverly arranged. Up until the only thing I could do was read, I didn’t know how badly I WANTED to read. So now, deep down, beneath it all, what I think I really want more than anything, is to make other people feel that way too. I want to be so eloquent as to make others anticipate what comes next. So, welcome, any who are curious or bored enough to explore. I’ll have you know that you’re delving and diving alongside my own self. If I ever collect enough knowledge of this art and my ability to master it, you’ll have been along from the beginning. Consider me a walking, talking, breathing, bumbling set of words and spaces and commas. And let’s hope that, even if it isn’t going to be a best seller, at least it’ll have a happy ending.