Handwriting

I just realized that the font on this blog is horribly neat. If you were looking at a real specimen of my work you'd spend half of the time you would have spent cleaning the fuzz between your toes to decipher the code that is my handwriting.

In fact, you might have to call in an expert.

My older brother was obsessed with calligraphy when he was younger, so he picked up this ridiculous avant garde cursive style. When people see his handwriting they weep with joy and are reminded of a more simple time. He's lefthanded. He shouldn't have beautiful handwriting. Isn't it an unwritten law that lefthanded people have to have an ink mess following their compositions?

I'm righthanded. And my personal font looks like something from a Kruger film.

Probably spelled that wrong. (I run away from scary things because the images become cemented in my psyche. I'm extremely paranoid. But hey--at least I'll survive the zombie apocalypse. And probably save you as well.)

You can thank me later.

I have a tendency to change my q's into g's and link whatever vowels I have to the consonants. So essentially what you see is a string of consonants and questionable q's. Don't even get me started on cursive. In high school, I had a class where my teachers decided that writing in cursive used the brain in a way that printing never could. Oh, it did alright.

After trying to write the word "barbarian" three different times in cursive I threw in the towel.

Who the hell thought it would be okay to make an "r" next to a "b" in cursive? It's virtually impossible. Well, highly probable for the general populace, but I find I'm the particular exception in this case. Mayhaps some day I will have literate handwriting.

Until then I'll keep waving my chicken-scratch flag.

Scratching away and Blotting my paper,

M