Six Hundred And... One!

This is my six hundred and first blog post. Not all of them are published.

I have regaled you with misplaced commas, spelling errors, syntax confusion and accidental repetition, and various other gramatical mistakes six hundred times before this. Sort of. I still want to make this a landmark post, because I can.

I started my blog on a laptop computer called Gerald, who (Whom?) I loved dearly. He had in-built wifi, and a not particularly large collection of music that I listened to all the time, and which a reasonable amount of is still in my now expanded library. His back-lit keys were a pleasure to press, usually at night, which is when I do the majority of my blogging.

He met his end, sadly, when I smashed his display trying to closed him on an earbud I mistakenly left between the keyboard and the screen. I was shocked and inconsolable for  terribly long time, in which I requested of my mother to get him fixed, to no avail. If I hadn't smashed him, I'd probably be a windows user.

The next computer I was given was an awful hand-me-down from my sister that I named 'Sally'. What. A. Shitbox. Lost her charge in thirty seconds from unplugging, the keys were NOT back lit (forcing me to resort to usb lamps and ect) and were barely readable from age. She got so hot when I used her for long periods, of nothing but writing and music, that I used to put ice blocks on her from the freezer in an extraordinarily suicidal attempt to keep her running. I had a dongal for internet I had to plug into her, which functioned haphazardly, at best.

Nonetheless, she was a stubborn bitch (As toshiba computers were back then) and worked as a medium for self expression long after any sensible computer would have curled into a ball and, presumably, exploded. When I bought myself a new laptop, she was literally falling to apart, and still turned on. You could see the electronics from underneath the warped, curled metal casing. Stubborn, stubborn bitch.

My next laptop which I, as I mentioned, bought myself, I named Wilson, and he was the paragon of 'Okay'. Not great. Pretty unremarkable. His tilt screen was awful, but his keys were sort of felty, and super-fun to press. He caught a virus (or ten) one day and died quietly, without a fuss. He was the first computer I started to take around with me, so I could write on the go.

But carrying a computer around isn't a lot of fun, and after grovelling in a most uncharacteristic way, I was given an iPhone for a present from my mother, which was what I used to blog in between Wilson and my current computer. Pegasus is his name, and he is a magnificent beast of a Macbook Pro, if I do say so myself. He has a Monet print on his lid, and I love him to bits.

As a child I developed a coping mechanism of talking to people who weren't there and replying for them to deal with hard problems, something which originally was helpful, but which sadly evolved into a problem of its very own as my brain changed, particularly in puberty. Writing has helped replace this as a tool of self counsel which has been invaluable to me. The first person I speak to whenever I have a problem is my blog. And that's why I blog so much. :P

It's called the Sky Sailors Handbook because sailing ships have always been my favorite symbol of freedom. I crave freedom in all its forms, but most importantly I crave the freedom of the mind. To put a man in bondage and chains is easy. But it is far harder to stop him walking through the mountains of his imagination. In fact, if he still thinks he can, and he lives, it is impossible.

Cadge me, cut my hair, strip me of my clothes, and rob me of light and warmth. I will still feel the wind in my curls and the soft wooden planks of my sky ship on my bare soles, I will still step lightly through dusty libraries and echoing halls,  I will still swim in blue, kind, oceans, I will still be the hero of a thousand battles, and the lover of a thousand beautiful women, in the palace of my heart.

That's what my blog is, for me. The hope I can share a little of that with you, whoever you are.

If I were only good looking, I'm sure hollywood would make a movie about it. Hahahahaha. Have fun.