Grammatical Errors

If this blog is something you follow, or have just read enough to notice my consitant grammatical/spelling (or autocorrect typos) errors, I'm glad you've noticed. 

To be honest with you, I get this idea in my head of what I want to say and then I just go with it. No second thought, no hesitation, when the idea and feeling is there, I write what comes to mind. And when I feel that I can bleed words no longer, I click 'post'.

Nothing is ever going to be just as I imagine it in my head, so I aim to write just as I feel in this one moment. 

I actually don't like going back over and reading what I have written, I immediately begin to overthink what I've written and my word choice and it just doesnt ever seem worthy of being posted.

 It also doesn't seem like it's mine. Most of the time I forget about what I write on here until someone talks about it, or something triggers my memory. Then I will go back and read what I've written as if it's the first time I've seen these words, and as if these words weren't mine. 

I know that if I were to go back an edit my posts they would probably be more interesting, easier to read, and be over all smooth writing. 

But I like the bumps, the mishaps, the flaws. Flaws make for character. 

Dentists, Dentist Nurses, and Novels

While waiting for my dentist to see me today I pulled our my journal and began to write to kill some time (my dentist is notoriously slow) after some time the... dentist nurse? (She wasn't my dentist, she was the dentist assistant? Dentist nurse.) came in very quietly. I didn't notice her for a moment since I was so focused and my back was to the door way. Suddenly a voice came out of no where. 

"Whatcha doing there?" The dentist nurse asked innocently. 

"Writing." I replied nonchalantly.

"Whatcha writing?" She inquired. 

After a second of multiple thoughts and scenarios flashing through my mind, I replied: "A novel." 

It was true in a sense. I *was* writing in a journal which could be called a book in a sort of novel fashion. I thought for a minute about whether or not my answer held truth to it while my dentist nurse set up her and the dentists' tools to check my teeth. 

"What's it about?" She asked, breaking the silence. 

I struggled to string adequate words together.

 "I- uh- can't say..it's not finished yet, but I'll be sure to send you a copy-um- when it's done." 

She chuckled. "Alright sounds good to me. The dentist will be with you in just a minute." 

I almost felt panicky. Had I just lied to this stranger? Would it matter if I did, I mean was she really expecting a copy? I went on like this for a bit, questioning my logistics. 

I concluded that I had not lied- completely. I was writing a novel, just not in the moment she asked me. There was a novel in my head waiting to be written, and now I have just been given the push to actually write it. And so here marks the day I officially begin my novel.

Writers' Block

Lately (well since the last time I posted anything) I've been getting these spuratic bursts of inspiration, but as quickly as they come, they leave. I'm left with an idea and no where to really take that idea. I would say this my type of writers block. It doesn't happen all too often, so I don't necessarily have a method of getting around it. Mostly, I just slowly struggle through it. 

If you had to imagine it, imagine this long tunnel. It's a lovely tunnel, cement and sturdy. There is a scenic view around it, a nice hillside, trees, grass, blue skies, and funny looking clouds. You have to walk through the tunnel to get through the writers block. Okay, easy enough. I just have to walk through this tunnel. But no, it's not that easy. Inside this tunnel is jello.  The kind that's been in your fridge cooling for at least 5 hours, so you know it's solidified. Now you have to walk through this tunnel full of jello, and I'm not saying that I've walked through hello before, but let's be realistic: walking through a tunnel full of jello would be difficult. And this jello is just jello, it's yellow jello. The hardest of jello's to walk through. I'll show you why yellow jello is the worst of jello's. 

Last year in my English class I read this short story called "The Yellow Wallpaper". It was one of those short stories you read that basically haunt you the rest of your life. In any way, I absolutley loved it. The winter time you keep asking yourself, why does it matter that the wallpaper is yellow? When you feel like you can finally answer the question, it's bone chilling. 

Here is a link to the story: http://ebookbrowsee.net/gilman-the-yellow-wallpaper-pdf-d291586945

I strive to write a short story of the sorts that kids read in their English class and get haunted by. Haunted in the best of ways of course, it stays with you in a nice proximity. You don't overly think about it, but it's there when you need something to chew on, or even to guide you. 

I feel as if speaking in details of my writers block has brought me halfway through this yellow jello tunnel. I can only wait to see what's on the other side. 

Letters

I had fully intended on in my next post telling you about how great elephants are; I was going to name it "Let's talk about Elephants" because they are definitely something to be discussed. I even had a cool picture to show you as well and fun facts!  Elephants are fantastic with all their beautiful wrinkles and what not. But, something else came up that has taken precedence over elephants. (I know, it must be pretty intriguing to be jump above Elephants) 

So let's talk about Letters. 

Letters, I think, are the greatest form of communication (other than being face to face of course), especially when they are hand written. You are able to see so much more about the author of the letter and the message it contained when you are able to see the strokes and scratches of the pen on the paper. Sometimes words seem much more sincere when they are tangible.

There are a plethora of letters one can receive: love letters, random letters, typed letters, emails? Yes emails count sometimes, secret letters, hidden letters (like the one hidden within my walls), etc. Each one unique in its message and chosen form of Letter. 

What makes a letter, well a letter, starts with the beginning and end of it. The classic "Dear ____ ," or just "____ ," sets the tone. You would be surprised by how much the format of your message changes the reaction it receives. And finally ending the letter with "Sincerely," or "Love, " or "Yours truly," really seals the deal. Never forget to date your letters. They are kept for years on end and having a reference of time to go off of will bring the most genuine smile to your face. 

You know, some things about the English language really aggravate me, like homophones. I could have been talking about a letter (The alphabet letter, like Z is a letter) this whole time when I was really talking about a letter. 

I also don't like the rule that says that your punctuation must always go inside the quotation marks. I refuse that "rule". 

Before I go, back to letters. They either create you or destroy you. And they either create good things for other people or they break other people, you have to be careful. Remember: "With great power, comes great responsibility" -Spider man's Uncle 

You should write a letter to someone. Whoever you give it to, they would love it. I guarantee it or your money back. Start with "Dear", write anything that possibly comes to mind about the person or just life in general, and end with a "Sincerely". It will be fun both writing and giving it. Hopefully you get one back. 

P.S. Post scripts are definitely okay in letters.  

Follow up on Physics

Over all for finals this semester, it could have gone horribly wrong or dangerously well, and I've got to say that I really caught the Hail Mary throw and turned the tables. 

With all my grades being borderline of an A or B (or in the case of physics B and C) each final would be a make it or break it grade in the class.

I'm honestly not much of a studier, I get through classes pretty easily without spending a lot of time studying. But this last week I studied from when I came home from school to when I went to bed. Not doing a sport gives you tons of free time to do a lot of things, I like it. 

Overall, nerves were high, sleep was low, probability was in the air and I was feeling lucky. I ended this semester with all A's and a B in Physics. 

(I ended up getting an 89% on my Physics final and apparently that was enough. With the curve my teacher graded it on, it was an A. I'm not getting a B in this class next semester, I'm getting an A it's definitely attainable.)

Dreaming about Physics

The bone crushing reality of finals has almost run it's course. This year, after slacking off a great deal in the beginning of the semester, I have to decided to exercise some self discipline. A little more than a week ago I began to start studying for my finals which are this week. It's too soon to tell whether it has paid off or not test wise, but I really do know the material. 

Just last night I had a dream about doing different types of physics problems: 2-D Momentum, Force in elevators, Block on a ramp, and Motion problems. Needless to say, my physics final was this morning.

 

In the middle of my final I put my pencil down, sat back, and began to stare straight ahead thinking about what my score would be on this test. If I get anything less than an A I would receive a C in the class, my first C on a report card. I tried to reassure myself by thinking of the great deal of studying I had done, but then I thought back to the last test taken in my physics class, I received an 78. A girl, who does absolutely no homework (and you need to do the homework for physics) and constantly cuts class, relieved an 90. The frustration of my test taking abilities, and ability to perform under pressure set in. 

I finally finished the final and turned it in completely drained of all energy and brain power, it's safe to say I gave it my all. 

 Obviously, getting an A on my final is the wish, but I'm setting my expectation low hoping that I even reach that. 

I'll be sure to let you know how things turn out. 

That Holiday Feeling

Although the holidays are supposed to be such a wonderful time of the year full with glee, and especially today seeing as I should be focusing on what I am thankful for, I cannot help but feel so empty this time around and reflect on what I do not have. 

It's a rather pessimistic point of view to take on, I know, but I'm going to rant on anyway because I need to. This year I lost some irreplaceable things that the cause of my heart ache. 

My wonderful, intelligent brother now in Paris has left me feeling rather alone in my own house. I've never had to be without him and even though it's been four months since he left, I'm still not okay with him gone. I am okay with it, but I'm not. It's hard to want someone home when you know they are making and living an amazing life of their own. I mean, I can't want him home, not when he's having so much fun out there. I think I just want to be okay, not for him to be home. There's sometimes a deafening silence that creeps over my house. At a big dinner table just three of us sit, clicking forks and knives to plates. We make an effort not to meet one another's eyes for fear of attempting to make conversation none of us want to have. This silence consumes my mother, my sister, and myself, leaving us mute to each other. And I can't help but remembering that just before he left the talks we would have at one or even two in the morning, rendering me feeling like not only did my brother leave, but a friend as well. 

Among friends, I lost a best friend this year. I've lost this friend for some time now, but these past few weeks it has finally sunk in. I feel mostly shocked of all. I never would have guessed that of all my the people I call my best friends, they would be the one I who left. It hurts so badly that I forget about it completely at times. After all these months I still find myself seeing things that remind me them and then writing out a text message to send to them and just before hitting send, it all hits me and I remember. 

I don't think a day goes by I don't feel this ache. 

The holidays are great. Thanksgiving has too much food-it grosses me out- but thanksgiving brings family, and that family brings love and my heart aches less, but when we go around the table and say our thanks I can't help but let the tears well in my eyes when I choke out that I am thankful for my family, friends, and to have such an inspiring brother living his dream far away.

I guess I just feel a little empty right now. And a little lost myself. 

White Socks Black Shoes

Sometimes I get into these spells of dreary conversations. Where every time I talk to someone, I have the same conversation. 

Hello, how are you?

Good, how are you?

Good. How's (sport/class/activity I have with the person)? 

Oh, good. How's (only activity they know about me)?

It's good. 

There's nothing really there. It's quite shallow and neither of us are learning anything from or about each other. I like knowing the deeper parts of people, that's when you start to get a grasp of just who they are and strive to be. 

Needless to say, these shallow conversations are the fault of both participants, not just one. So I take full responsibility for my thin conversational spells. I think sometimes the only way to get to know someone better is for you to open yourself up to them first, to take that leap of faith. 

When I finally grasp reality again and move away from mulling over my poor conversations to appreciate the best ones when they come around. 

When you really know someone and have seemingly shallow conversations, is when you know that you know that person the best you can. It's almost as comforting as walking comfortably in silence with someone. 

Like today for example:

When I said "I don't like my socks today, they're white." And my friend sort of chuckled and said "I know, you like your black socks with black shoes".

 It's the little things, the small details, the attention to the tedious that let you know that you made the right choice of a friend. Who else would know I really don't like white socks with black shoes?

Inspiration

"People inspire you, or they drain           you – pick them wisely."                  – Hans F Hansen

Lately I haven't been feeling very inspired (one of the main reasons I haven't posted anything in a few days). I have tried to write well developed ideas on what I've been thinking lately but the result hasn't been the best. I've been feeling awful scattered lately. Like my mind can't string together more than a few sentences before it loses interest. For example, enraged about the pressure school is raining down on me I attempted to write about it:          

              Here's to the AP kids

        It's really easy to find yourself feeling that you are alone in those world. If you don't talk to people and those people don't open up to you, you would just have no idea what they are thinking or feeling. 

        Sometimes it seems like everyone else can do it all and you just can't. Balancing your grades, sports, family, and friends. It just seems so incredible impossible. 

       The pressure seems endless. Right now it's only high school and those damn AP classes, then it will be applying for colleges. I'm just not sure how I will be able to cope if I don't get accepted into a college I apply to. Then what if I get into great college? I will need to graduate and do great things. Who even gets to decide if those things are great? What if I can only do mediocre things? 

        If I wasn't afraid enough already, here comes my fear of living only averagely my entire life. 

And then, I started thinking about all the homework I needed to do, tests I need to ace, and felt like there was just so much to do that I ended up doing nothing at all except sleeping.

 

And... 

While in my English class I was so incredibly annoyed of the lack of effort given by the teacher I pulled out my phone and begin to type:

 

                My English Class

        As if school didn't already waste precious time there is one class that has broken a record for the biggest waste of my time. Normally English is my favorite class, and having such an amazing teacher last year, this year I am nothing short of disappointed. 

       The semester is quickly coming to a close and if I were to be told to summarize the activities and what I have learned in this class I would only be able to list this: movies, notes, ???. 

        This equivocates to doing absolutely nothing of value or worth each day. I sit in the back of the class room facing an unorganized board that tells as much as Chinese letters do to a Japanese man; which angers me as much as the man who was last to find out the Arkduke Fernandid was shot.  

Then, I decided in defiance that if she wasn't going to put effort into being a good teacher then I wouldn't put effort into being a good student, and promptly stopped typing. 

I very much would have liked to elaborate and finish these ideas, but I'm afraid I have missed those trains of thoughts. For now, I will wait for the next train to come along.

 

A fun fact: I've always particularly like trains. There's an idealizing grace about their importance in history and ingenuity. 

Coming back to the original topic (See? I'm scattered and off track), I find that of all things people are what give and take the most inspiration from you. I have those friends who give me inspiration and by interacting with them I feel more and more energized, ready to take on the world. Then, I have those friends that by being with them means I lose all energy and end the day being mentally exhausted. The ironic thing of all, having said this is that as soon as I think I have it all figured out as to which friends drain me and which friends inspire me- they mix themselves up. The beauty of friendship.

Filling the Bottle

Just because something happens a lot doesn't mean you get used to it. If you get punched in the arm everyday, you aren't going to lose feeling in your arm, the bruise is going to get bigger. 

I am a very internal person; I don't like conflict. By all means, I avoid it whenever I can. I really just take it whenever it's given, I don't fight back. It's easy to assume that people like that don't care anymore, but they do. Verbal attacks, death stares, etc. They aren't something you get used too. They are something you deal with. 

I would recommend not bottling things up until there is so much pressure in the bottle that it explodes. From experience, snapping is the worse thing to do. It usually results in the situation looking very twisted from reality. Isn't it the worst when someone pushes you, so you push back, then you get in trouble for it? It's the timeless tale of second person getting caught. This is one of the reason I have the tenacity of letting things go. 

I can not, and refuse to put up this any longer. 

Foot steps

I think I want to be a writer and study English in college, something along those lines; I just can't admit that just yet. I don't even have anyone to blame for this apprehension, which is the worst part. I mean, I almost wish I had unsupportive friends or parents (key word almost, I am super appreciative of my loving and supportive friends and parents). I'm just saying that if a movie were to be made about my life and I was over coming some struggle, it wouldn't be that exciting because I wouldn't be fight anyone but myself.

That is definitely the scariest thing: I'm only standing in the way of myself. I don't know how to fix this, but I think this blog is a start. I feel so inexplicably torn about the subjects, as if I have two minds in one head.  I think I want to be a some type of an author, but I don't want to show everyone what I write, and sometimes I don't want to pursue it writing at all. It's almost as if I don't want to succeed. I don't understand why I'm doing this to myself. I don't want to be still, I'm definetly not the kind of person to stand idle.  Yet, here I am unwilling to move. I don't want to be this way. I'm thinking 5 steps into the future without taking even 1 step now. It doesn't even matter what direction I step. Do you think it really matters where I step? Is it even that important, so important that I feel an unbearable weight of pressure weighing down on my neck? I don't think its that important. As long as your moving, you're heading the right way (for the most part of course). So why am I so apprehensive that I'm going to step incorrectly that I won't take a step at all? Not even half a step. I feel like incredulously fighting with myself. What kind of  sick joke is that? Why in the world am I fighting myself? I should be fighting other people. I should be fighting tradition  I should be fighting the "man". All of the cliche teenage things to do, but here I am in the most rebellious years of my life fighting myself.

I'd like to do more incredibly memorable things, spontaneity is something I struggle with: I think it's good to be a little bad in your life every now and then, it reminds you why you try so hard to stay good all the time.  But I overthink it all. I just need to keep making footsteps in the sand.

Sleep (hardly) and Dreams

It's so aggravating to be be unable or incapable of going to sleep. Four seconds ago I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open. Three seconds ago I closed my eyes. Two seconds ago I took a breathe and a second ago my mind started racing. I just want to be able to sleep, let my conscious mind rest and my subconscious mind take over. 

I often find myself physically tired but mentally ecstatic at odd hours of the night. Usually I spend the time I should be sleeping, reading, playing guitar, listening to music, or researching things, but even all those things cannot hold my attention lately. 

And lately as well, I have been having nightmares that scare me so undeniably, that I wake up at three or four in the morning unable to fall back asleep. 

Now, I love dreaming, whether they are day dreams, nightmares (although they cause the most annoyance), happy dreams, odd dreams, confusing dreams, it doesn't matter. Equal love for all dreams. Not only do they let you escape from the lonely depths of reality but they let you become so open minded to creating such absurd scenes in your head that have some relevance to your life. 

I don't really know what it means to dream of someone or to have someone dream of you, but I do know that it matters, and that I like it when this happens- a lot. Dreams are these magnificent movies going on in your head that are perfectly flawed for just you. Sometimes the best and worst thing is that no one knows about your dreams unless you tell them about them. I am a strong advocate for sharing your dreams with others. It opens doors to new types of conversations with that other person, even ludicrously silly ones. I challenge you to do this: when you wake up from a dream write it down, then read it after you really are awake. If the dream has someone you know, a friend, classmate, teacher- tell them about it. I think you would be surprised at their reactions. If not, then congratulations for being able to read minds. Gold star for you. 

Did you know that the average person has 3 to 4 dreams each night? Fun fact for you. 

Perspective

People don't change really, perspectives do. Try to keep that in mind. When you think a person has "changed" maybe they haven't. Maybe they have experienced different things that have changed their outlook. People blame their inability to keep a relationship on themselves or the other person saying that one of them has changed. A person doesn't really change, their values change. And that's perfectly okay. (An oxymoron yes, my favorite literary device) 

Depending on what your going through your priorities change. It's how it goes; that's life. it's all about perspective. Twenty people could see the same incident and each could have a different idea and/or opinion about it. If you don't think that's the neatest thing then get outta here. I'm just kidding, don't leave. Anyway, it's all about perspective. every waking moment you endure has to do with your personal perspective. "I have not failed 1,000 times; I have learned 1,000 ways not to build a light bulb." something like that... familiar right? This is exactly what I'm talking about. Perspective. It's all about how you look at things. When you view things in a positive way you see positive outcomes. You have to be a up person, not a down person. When you're a down person you send your self down this spiraling slide, it may seem fun because its a slide but it's hard to climb back up from the bottom on such a slippery slope. Every time you think "this is a bad day" or "I'm having a bad day" you notice that everything that happens to you is negative. In reality, every single thing that happens to you has some type of negative rebuttal that we choose to overlook when we are in a good mood and dwell on when we are in a bad mood. The next time your in a down mood and feel like everything happening to you is bad just think: how bad is it? Is it something that can be undone?  Made up for? Instead of sulking in your day, take control of it. Stand up and look at things from a different view. Even if it doesn't work you'll feel better knowing that you tried. It's always better to try and almost succeed than to not try and fail.

Hate

Are you the type to say that one should keep all emotions bottled up inside? Would you have the audacity to tell someone to their face you hate them? Or are you somewhere in between?

I am most definitely the person in between. That's why today when a girl in my math class said "I'm not nice to people I hate" the only thing I could muster out of my mouth was "Yeah well you're kinda a jerk" Kinda? What was I thinking? That wholeheartedly did not express my feeling toward her. I do not hate her, but surely I could have come up with a more colorful word than "jerk".
Aw well. A lesson well learned. I need to work on my confrontational skills. My tongue ties itself in knots weaving through all the possible words I am thinking and I don't get the chance to say what I really want to. Perhaps it's for the best.
I would have liked to say asshole instead of jerk. But what's the difference? My ability to cuss shows nothing to prove I am not worthy to hate nor that she is worthy of being an asshole. Cussing only runs circles around emotions. I try to refrain from, but usually am lost as soon as I am angered.
 I'm not mad she hates me. She's allowed to feel how she wants. I do not think I did anything to be hated for, but that's just me of course. I don't hate her. In the least bit. I'm only more annoyed at this reoccurring situation. It's a weekly matter I have to confront with words and daily with eyes.

Hate is a funny thing. And this is only one kind.

Analysis of "C" and "K"

It has recently come to my attention that merely 26 letter make up our endless amount of words in the English language. That is such a perplexing thought. Twenty-six suddenly seems like am incredibly small number. With this in mind it would be logical to assume each and every letter if the 26 is of great importance. But I beg to differ, two letter have unfortunately been overlooked. I believe that the letters "C" and "K" have messed up such a wonderful concept. Or in the least, brought it into question. They both make the same sound and although words would not look quite the same they are very interchangeable. I find it unnecessary to have both letters. Of course, there are some other letters that make similar sounds to one another but even those very letter contain their own special sound and pronunciation that makes that one letter, that one letter. I feel as if this can be an (okay) comparison made to people. Say every person is composed of 26 letters. Now there are, as stated before, endless words (combinations) of those 26 letters. And so there are people like "c(k)at" "dog" and "frog"; and then there are people like "k(c)angaroo" "elephant" and "rhinoceros". Different people, but they are essentially comprised of the same 26 letters, or qualities. If a quality were to be given to ever letter would the qualities if "C" and "K" be the same? Would that be right? (I don't feel it would be) are we all only really comprised of 25 letters with the 26th letter left to be chosen by ones' self. Is it this intangible and possibly imaginary letter that is the very quality that makes any one person so uniquely different from the next? It would be easier to hold on to this concept if it were out dimly like this: We all have 26 letters, at the start. Once you figure out that your "C" and "K" letters are the same and only look different, you open yourself up to the idea of having a 26th letter on your creation. It is this letter that we often do not disclose to many people? Is it the silent letter that completes the words that most people leave out when spelling?

The concept of "pretty"

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=lTYso26LDho

The concept of what is pretty and what is not, is tantalizing. The idea that someone else could deem you so for their own concept of pretty is something that seems to be craved more now that ever. "I am pretty... at least I think I'm pretty." See, that's the thing about being pretty: you don't really know whether you are or are not until someone else confirms one of the two. It's a hard thing to come to terms with, and an even harder thing to see in yourself. Have you ever looked at your reflection in the mirror? I mean bathroom door closed and locked, hands gripping the sink, leaning forward a bit and just starring yourself in the eyes? If you haven't, try it. It's.. Interesting to say the least. Say some things to yourself, positive things, things you question. Look at yourself when you say these things. Experience what you feel when you say these things. Realize the power of words. The power of your words. Stay positive with what you say, to yourself, and to others. But don't be afraid to be truthful. It's a delicate balance that like most things takes time. Being told "you're pretty" is a powerful sentiment. But never too powerful to completely crush self doubt.
Say there is a boy who likes you. You know he likes you. He is.. Dorky to say the least. You know if you asked him, he would say you are pretty. And he would say it honestly, genuinely. You also know if he asked you, you would not say he is cute, handsome, or pretty. And you would say it honestly, genuinely. Both of the situations are okay. How could either not be? But does it ever make you think that perhaps if this boy were less dorky would he still think the same of you? Does our visions of others solely pertain to how we see ourselves? I ask this not as a rhetoric question, nor as a legitiment  question for any one person to answer. The answer is indisputable: yes. And for this reason we must be so careful as to what we say to ourselves when locked in the bathroom eyes staring into the soul. (Since the eyes are the pathway to the soul of course) Because what we say to ourselves sets the guidelines as to what others say to us. Any one person is only as they are to you as you let them be. Give or take some of course.

Getting Started

I'm sure you've heard countless times that "getting started" "taking the first step" etc. is the hardest thing; personally I beg to differ. Sticking with something is the hardest. And that will be the challenge for me. I'm typically one of those people that just sort of.. Gets things the first time around. It's a blessing and a curse. I often find myself quitting a lot of stuff I enjoy timidly and what better way to motivate ones' self to keep going on something I enjoy deeply than to do that thing in front of an audience? It's not all going to be perfect (or good), but really nothing is; life is always more interesting when things are a bit peculiar. I'd like to think everyone is a bit peculiar.
Anyway, getting started would get the award of 'Most Awkward'. Yeah, for me, being an awkward person and all, the first time (and the second and third time) I do things I never fail to carry myself with a certain clumsy and awkward grace. Like I am doing now, I'm doing it. I'm getting started. But, I'm a bit all over the place and you haven't really gotten to know me well. I've told you bits and piece but nothing really concrete. I'm sure that will just come with time, either that or it will get more awkward. Either way that'd be something see.
I guess if getting started really is the hardest thing then it doesn't matter how you start. It just matters that you did, right?