I sometimes forget who I am. I sometimes forget what I write or say. That causes me to write sentences that are all too similar twice or thrice. When I look back at what I’d just written or typed, I realize how ridiculous I must sound. I thank my lucky stars I thought to actually proofread what I was writing. I thank my lucky stars I thought to actually proofread what I was typing. Because I don’t often do that. Thank my lucky stars for autocorrect – and that’s as far as that train of thought goes. And the train never goes far. And I start my sentences with grammatical errors. But sometimes it’s just more fun that way. And sometimes it’s the greatest satisfaction that I didn’t have to play by the rules one time in my day. Sometimes it’s fun to really mess with people by structuring sentences convolutedly in such a way that makes the reading of the words structured to form a sentence or two or ten turned into one long, run-on sentence really quite incomprehensible, even if you give it a thought or ten or ten thoughts structured as one.
Ever try to put your right shoe on your left foot? I’m not saying in the sort of dozy way that one does when one is half-asleep. I mean have you ever simply attempted a right old switcheroo on your feetses, intentionally? Doesn’t work well, does it? So when you go to put your left shoe on the right foot, which foot does it end up on? Either way you put it, it’s possible, even if it hurts a little. And I intend to say that putting the left shoe on the foot that is on the opposite side of your body as your heart, or possibly more identifiably, the same side of your body as the large end of your liver, may hurt simply because the shoe wasn’t made for that foot. It curves the whole wrong way and none of the right way. Unless, of course, we are discussing an anomaly of nature where one’s innards are entirely opposite from my own, in which case, the left shoe fits quite comfortably because it is on the right foot – that is to say, the correct foot. You know the one… The one that, on my good self at least, walks directly beneath my heart when I’m not being rather silly, which is not often, I must admit.
So now, shoes on the right feets, sentences structures mostly in a way that is goodly to thine eyes, let’s begin. Or rather, shall we end? Doesn’t really matter. We’ll always end up in the same spot as when we started, which is, coincidentally, searching for an end that is more well defined than the start, with a less-than-nebulous purpose. Ah, such is life.