But to a sloppy typist like myself it tends to make things a little more difficult. I keep hitting things and opening up things I don't want to like the little box that enables one to look up things.
I remember writing stories on a simple portable typewriter I bought while I was in the service and wish I had the stuff I cranked out on it. I'd haul it everywhere and sit down just about anywhere and write. Somewhere along the line an entire boxful of my epistles disappeared. I'd write up a bunch and send them home in a manila envelope to my dad who kept them in a box, unread.
Some of them were about the salty characters I met during my adventures and others were disguised stories where the names were changed to protect the innocent. I couldn't see having some poor bastard tagged with a felony when in reality he had done nothing wrong. I learned early on that it is very possible to commit a felony while doing the right thing. For example I saw someone knock a person out once that truly needed a good spell of unconsciousness administered to him.
Some of the stories I wrote on the old portable were full of the basic humor and pathos of daily life. Several of them took the reader along in adventures where the protagonist would wind up right where he started off at.
The one I recall the clearest is the kid registering for classes at the local community college played holy hell waiting in line and finally persevered only to find that the first station had not given him a certain piece of paperwork and he had to go back the end of the line and start all over again. This happens a lot in life.
Much to the guy's credit he got smart and on his way back to the end of the line he stopped off and grabbed a tray from the cafeteria and bought several Cokes. He put his paperwork under the tray and, carrying the Cokes, went to the front of the line.
Everyone thought he was a school employee of some sort and when he gave out the Cokes he quietly schlepped one of the people there his stack of paperwork and was back in the fast moving part of the line in an instant. He did wind up getting all of his classes, too.
The people he gave the Cokes to were grateful and quietly accepted them and got him back on track.
It was one of my better stories.
I wonder what eventually happened to the guy. He probably made out OK because he was smart and wasn't afraid to use his head and try a different tack.
Anyway, I can manage laptops OK but the old typewriter was more forgiving in some ways even though it was much harder to make corrections. This is because there were no additional programs tied in and nothing for a clumsy oaf like me to hit and open.
Still, I do notice that I am not getting any better with age.
To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY
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