26. (Wigging.)

As I write this (first typed: "drink this") I'm wigging out on coffee and my eyes feel like they're going to burst out of my skull (first typed: "school"). I'll be noting any large-scale typos (first typed: "typies") as a result, words that aren't supposed to be involved at all but, somehow, get pumped out as I ejaculate this entry into my blog.

Sexual references aside...

I've noticed over the last couple (first typed: "could") of years, since starting college, really, that my typing skills have improved greatly. I blame the internet, textual role-playing, and being a writer. Blame's not a right word for such a description, though.

I took a typing class in highschool, when I was a junior, taught by a man I know as Fish who happens to be a family friend. He has since attended the funerals of both of my father's parents, but that's beside the point. I'm just trying to point out his relation to me, in terms of family-friendliness.

Anyways, he always made it a point that I should type the traditional way: asdfjkl; and its derivatives, reaching up into the exact places where the letters are supposed to be. In a way, this is (first typed: "his") how I type now, four years later, a junior in college. It's hardly anything direct or (first typed: "of") concise.

As I was typing a web-address into (first typed: "inop") the address bar on the top of the IE window (IE at work; I use Firefox at home) I realized that with habit, my hands have started pumping out words that I type all the time. When I type (first typed: "typo") words (originally typed: "works") that my hands are accustomed to inputting--screen-names, passwords, web-addresses (I never--EVER--let the window type it for me)--my hands tend to become (first typed: "be come") very sloppy.

It feels, as I noted a bit ago, like I'm just slopping the words on there. My hands become floppy, random things that splat against the keyboard in no sense of order or plan, just jamming out words and letters as fast as is physically possible. Fish, they feel like. Big, wet fish, slamming against the black (or, at home, grey) plastic that is my keyboard.

I type damn fast. As you can tell from this entry alone, my (first typed: "byt") accuracy is hardly up to snuff. I'm a horribly ugly typer. One day, I'm going to wear out the 'backspace' button on my personal keyboard, and that'll be all she wrote. The day that happens, I'll give up computers forever and just write on a typewriter.

I honestly hope that that day never comes. Sad as it might often sound, the internet has become an integral part of my life.

And it will continue to be so, until June 9th, until she's here, until I don't need it for my own personally happiness and it reverts to being the thing I use to keep myself from getting bored.

And I didn't even note all the typos, just the (first typed: "hte") big ones.