call me Bob.

Today was a collage of random thoughts, jotted down in excerpts from my carefree, mustang spirit imagination.

At first I was thinking about Austen, go figure, and I wondered if she had any living relatives alive. Can you imagine being in some way connected to one of the greatest literary minds ranked with Dickens, Twain, and Frost? Talk about having steep pressures for your first elementary school book report..

I think I would like to be related. Well, frankly, I would more than likely stroke out on the spot if it became known that I was related to Austen. Albeit a bit odd since she's been such a fascination of mine these many years together. To know that all along I've been obsessing over "Auntie Jane"....might throw a kink in the mix.

But to dream.


My second thought was that, were I to write a novel, my main character would be strikingly resemblant of Taylor Swift. Picturesque, carefree, and modest. Nothing like her Disney Channel counterpart, you know who you are, Miley. Tsk tsk.

So then it went on to my third, and final thought: I think I should very much like to write that novel.

Bring on the cliches...I've read many a manuscript as an English major as favors for self-proclaimed 'authors' and they've been horrid. Absolutely grotesque. Which is precisely why I want to finally get these stories down on paper. I've got so many floating around in my brain as it is, why not do some spring cleaning and clear some space?

I wrote once that in my mind, there are these ecclectic little characters living out their own little lives, all entertwined but all diverse. The Regency woman has tea with the Indian Chief while the young soldier reads stories to the 5 year old blonde boy with leukemia. All entertwined, all seperate.


After all these years, I think it's time I build them their own homes.