“Happy Birthday, and an Introduction of Sorts”
I used to be a “writer”. Not in any noteworthy way. Definitely not in any sort of professional way. I used to just write things. Journals, short stories, even the odd limerick. I would assume that the contributors to this site (and message board) are wired the same way. Actually, I wouldn’t assume that. I’ve spent hours reading the writings that have been submitted to this place. I’m guessing the piles of unsubmitted stories and ideas would put Jimi Hendrix to shame. Some things I may not agree with, and some things I’ve read over and over. Taken as a whole, I love it all.
I lead a somewhat sheltered internet life. I discovered DRS, through Metal Sludge, only a couple of weeks ago. I think DRS is a fantastic concept. (“Hey Wiggum, did you forget to brush your teeth?” “No, why?” “Your breath smells like the editor’s ass!” "Oh, yeah? And how would you know?"). It’s true, I think this site has a great concept. There may be other websites just like this one. But this is the site that I at present really dig.
I write a lot these days, but I don’t do a lot of writing. At least, not for myself. I volunteer my writing, so to speak. I represent people who have been hurt on their job-sites. This isn’t my J-O-B. It’s a volunteer thing that I do. My personal version of the “good deed for the day”. When the government tells these people that they didn’t really get hurt at work, that they got hurt at home or that they’re not even really hurt at all, I get to write. Submissions and arguments and pleas and reasons. I try to convince people to see my line of thought. It’s a lot of work. I have to pretend to be a doctor and a lawyer, and I try to wrap it up in a subtle package that makes the Government and Industry lawyers look like the low-life heartless scumbags that they quite often are. When I lose, it can be very frustrating and disheartening; when I win, I’m on Cloud 9 for a week.
Anyways, to clear things up, I write but I don’t write. Make sense now? No, I didn’t think so either. What I write for a living is very satisfying. It just is not satisfying in the way that writing in a personal way is. It’s very much a different sort of satisfaction.
For me, when I write, there is nothing more satisfying than the “opening line”. Without that opening line, I suffer from perpetual writer’s block. I can have something inside me for six hours, and I won’t write a word because I don’t have that opening line. That’s my version of writer’s block. For some, writer’s block might be more defined by not having an idea, and therefore not having anything to write (kind of the opposite of Stephen King, who seems to have developed the ability to write while having no ideas whatsoever). I can knock out a couple of thousand words in one sitting, but nothing's happening if I don’t have that opening line (wait a second, am I talking about my skills as a writer, or my skills on the dating circuit).
My style, if you want to call it that, is very much stream-of-consciousness. I don’t pay much attention to structure. As I write this, my Word editor has left little squiggly green lines all over the place. I’ve always felt that language should be dynamic, not static. Conveying an idea in the manner I see fit is more important to me than whether or not I’ve left a preposition dangling at the end of this sentence here. I also LOVE commas, use them all over the place, quite often in places where they don’t belong. I also love humor and sarcasm. That may not be evident in this piece here, but hopefully someday.
Anyways, I used the words “Happy Birthday” in the title of this submission. I don’t know you people. You don’t know me. Yet. Grace sent me a letter asking when I was going to do a submission for DRS. Truthfully, I was somewhat stunned and a little bit flattered. I sent a reply, which, for the most part, said “I’m busy”. Very lame! It’s true to an extent, but it’s also true that I didn’t, and still don’t, know what to say or what to submit.
I grew up in the 80’s, and I’m guessing most of you did too (I’m not sure if Grace was pretending to be Mean Joe Green when he called me “kid”). I may have migrated to here via Sludge, but I have no interest in Bret Michaels and his wig. I still turn "Shout at the Devil" up to 11 once or twice a year, but I could care less about Vince Neil’s belly. What I am interested in is humor, and provocative thoughts, and great ideas. DRS offers that in spades, with the added bonus of a populace that feels like peers and contemporaries.
So there you have it. My first submission. A page and a half of me saying that I have nothing to say and how, if I did have something, I might go about saying it. All covered in a gooey, praise-filled icing with a cherry-esque “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” on top. I think DRS is the cat’s meow, the bee’s knees, a dish dee-lish. I’m thrilled to have stumbled upon this place and I sincerely hope to see many more birthdays to come.
by
Ralph Wiggum's Astrologer
