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Premature Publication…

It happens.

Don’t feel ashamed.

Pressing the “Publish” button just that smidge too early…letting yourself down in the process…seeing the unsatisfactory grammar, a few spelling errors my non-Canandian spell-check PMS’d right over thinking it was, in fact, correct…

Just a little insight for today’s prompt on my blogging process…the “everything you really didn’t need to know to still not allow yourself to overcome the adverse effects of the medication-induced insomnia…”

Day 4.

I got ahead of myself there.

(erupting in fits of hysterical giggles…title of the post…getting ahead of…*eyeroll*…)

I digress.

What makes my writing…MINE?  Sure as shit couldn’t tell ya.  BUT.  I can tell you a little about what makes me wanna get it on with my sentence structure and grammar…

The posts themselves are, in my opinion, as unique to me as your breath is to you.  I try to create something…sculpt it, if you will…with my ideas that not only can SOMEone out there in cyberspace relate to, but in a manner in which for a mere 2.2 minutes of their time…they have a little bit of escapism from the norm of health-activist-based blogging.

I write the way I live.  It’s real.  It’s emotional.  It’s the softness of a whispered idea, or the middle-finger salute to war that rages within my decrepit cells.

I try to think up an idea that most likely has a grab to anyone…whether afflicted with chronic illness, or not.  Then, I try to make a creative attempt, such as in “I am Jack’s tender cow…” to explain the chaos of my reality using metaphors, similes and whatever the hell else I can use to colour the ABC’s of my thoughts and ideas.

I often like to use movie references.  Alice in Wonderland is a big one for me.  So is Fight Club.  I think the most fun I’ve had was doing the “If Spoonies made a Fight Club” post:


Dude, I might be on a timeline, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost my sense of sarcasm…I’m highly fluent, actually…and I use sarcasm and wit coupled with humour to try to alleviate not only the harshness of the black letters on my white screen…but to remind myself that I am, in fact, still very much alive.

So I peruse the interwebs for what I think is a cool kind of correlating image (I always use an image. Always.).  I take that moment to re-read the words.  Hell, sometimes I even read them backwards, to ensure the spelling is correct and that the grammar is worthy of your time.

Oh, it’s happened…I’ve hit “the button” at the wrong time…so wrong, in fact, that I spent nearly 15 minutes in a heart-pounding non-existent race against time to try to correct not one, but TWO English errors.  Oh, the horrors!!  Why 15 minutes? (Read: Dude, I can wash my freakin’ hair in

Because as soon as I do press “Publish”…I’ve somehow managed to coerce the TARDIS of my computer bits to post to my Twitter, Facebook, Google +, LinkedIn and whateverthehellelse I’ve got…So, now I’ve got to run around the vectors and arrays of the 1’s and 0’s to try to find my shit and fix it with the corrected version.

I love my life.  Poster child for OCD.

I am totally hooked on this blog.  I spent 3 months of my made-for-tv-movie-2.2 minutes-at-any-time kinda life working up the theme from the bare bones of a WordPress site (I just typed “shite”…odd. And ironic.)  THREE.  MONTHS.

But I did it.  And I love it.

I love the thought of people enjoying reading the things they find in my little corner of the cosmos. 😮

This post was written as part of NHBPM – 30 health posts in 30 days:

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