Blab.

There's a new girly.
She seems hot.
...appears to have some sort of knowledge of Latin.

She asked about Literature and Books.

So, I blabbed:

Oh, shit.
She's mentioned my name, and now I feel the pressure to write something pretentious about my reading habits.
Truth is, I hated reading, words, English etc until I was 16.
My English wasn't even comprehensible until I was in Year 2, and it was only in Year 7 that I learnt that you can get improper and proper English.

My older sister was a Childhood Poet.
She put me to shame.
Pages and pages of rhymes and anecdotes...
She moved onto fictitious stories of a Dog named Lottie,
and eventually autobiographical accounts of how she spent New Years' Eve '94.
She hadn't even seen her 8th birthday.
She was the English Queen, so I shunned it all....
and I regret it.

Because, it turns out, I love to read.

Obviously, I have so much to read, yet, and haven't touched upon nearly all the books mentioned here....
but I do love Etymology.

Words are my world.
Technically, they're my thought carriers...
but I do love them.
As I've been slowly uncovering this reality, my writing has improved.

Gone are the days of trying to rhyme Orange with the Earl of Borange, ahem; poetry and creative writing is not about the order of the words you choose...
It is all about the words.

This all means Jack Shit, though, because I waste my time contemplating whether Aliens are invading my city because of the flashes of lights that I see, time to time...

Sometimes, rambling makes the most poetic sense.