Changei...

‘Once a writer, always a writer.’ Well...I’m not.'

The opening line was just something that was running in my head, more of an annoyance, really. But a good one.  It made me...wait for it...write!

I remembered the time when I actually felt the sense of pleasure and maybe fulfilment of telling a joke, narrating a personal experience, or making-up one – sometimes those last two examples mixed-up in my head that I even had trouble telling the difference. I was born with an uncanny ability to not shut-up. It became a problem for me and to my poor teachers, and maybe some to my classmates, until I discovered, during my second year of high school, the most human beings are born with hands and fingers to hold pens, and some are lucky enough, that includes me, to learn how to write. And so I did. I know that I am not very good on what I do. I don’t know how to spell some words (thank you auto-spell checker!). I don’t even know how to use them! I don’t care about the rules on writing a paragraph or even just a simple sentence. (What are those green wavy lines under my sentence anyway?). I just write what I think is right – teehee with rhymes. For the moment I suppose. I do believe in a life-long commitment to education, and learning, and correcting mistakes. So, don’t judge my prose.

I digress. But it did make me feel special when I was able to –somehow- finish a short story that I made, because as far as I know, no one in my class was doing the same thing. And this is where good friends came in handy. Friends who also does not know how to spell, and does not understand grammars and the usage of punctuations, but are able to share their enthusiasm by reading my work of crap when it is done. My friends and I created a book club, where, the only reading material that was allowed was the stories that I made. We called it the G-Force team. It sounds corny, but it was, during that time, cool!

The stories that I made for the club, to make it interesting, was about us. A fictional, super cool with amazing powers version of us. For me, it was the easiest to write. I don’t have think of anything else but to place our group into situations where we use our power. That’s it! A story is born!

Oh! How I wish I was able to save those pieces so that I could laugh at how it was rashly made! I remember doing it in my room with mom’s typewriter and wasting a lot paper because I didn’t know that those white correction inks were already available.

And as they say, ‘The rest is history’. Or, I have just run out things to write.

Seriously, what are these green lines for?

Please Don’t Forget To Be Happy!