All Write, Already!

I stutter. Not all the time, and usually not noticeably, but when I'm upset or angry or even really tired, it starts. First my fricatives become extended, then my plosives start to repeat. Right now, as I type this, I've actually declared a self-imposed moratorium on my voice so that I can recover from my latest bout of sssss-t-t-t-t-tuttering.

It's like impotence, you know? You're there, trying to make something really simple happen, like shaping your mouth around the flow of air out your mouth, and the harder you're trying, the less you actually accomplish. Everything extends into a hiss, or a pop-pop-pop, and all of a sudden there's a spotlight on you. It's just air; it shouldn't be this big a deal. But it is. And now, thanks to the relative anonymity of the Internet, you know one more embarassing story about me.