Lol. 
Actually, I have been slowly regaining my knowledge of the ātricks of the tradeā when it comes to writing, but I still feel rather lost in the shadows. I donāt know why Iām so attatched to books in general; separation from the subject is like acquring a disease. (snigger)
Well, i hope you can keep regaining some of your skills, Mitch! I understand what youāre saying. Itās been happening to me with Math and Science. i have a very mathematical brain, and lately I felt like I was watching so many cartoons and tv and stuff that my math & science skills were draining away! Plus I havent taken a real Math class in 2 years. Iāve been trying to do problems when I can, but the workbook iām using is too simple. Itās got middle school math in it.
lennonluvr9 - Yeah, see, thatās exactly what Iām talking about here. Due to the fact that I have been hard at work over the summer (and, thus, havenāt had much time to write or read on a regular basis), my writing skills seem to have been temporarily flushed down the toilet; Iām just pleased that the toilet will āthrow it back upā, so to speak.
Iām slowly, but surely, regaining my dictionary of words and phrases, thank goodness. Attending church this morning and watching Ratatouille for the fifteenth time seemed to refresh within me some much needed confidence and stamina, and I am going to do my utmost to make sure that my writing skills do not retract into the deepest corners of my imagination. Heck, Iām using metaphorical phrases and such right now just so I can get back into the act! 
Iāve also found that reading unintelligible sentences and/or comments seems to delude my memory and burn it to a crisp. In other words, I hate small talk and abbreviated sentences such as, āOMGā; it seems to annoy me to the point where I have to, in my mind, correct the āmistakeā and organize it so that it connotates a clear and ālegitimateā message.
Anyway, thank you for the concern, dude. I hope that youāll unveil your knowledge of math and science, too! It sucks when you forget thingsā¦ Heh. 
Argh! I need a book! goes off to read
ā Mitch
Good luck.
As for the question a little while earlier, Iād like to hear the rest of your version of the film and the story you thought of based off of the actual film. (The varietion of your version that you mentioned at the beginning of this topic sounds interesting too. If you ever wrote any of it, Iād love to read it).
Itās interesting to compair what you wrote to the actual film.
MiniChuchan - Thank you very much. Perhaps I shall attempt to reconstruct/write out the entire version of the real story of Ratatouille in the future. 
Udpate:: It has been too longā¦
Yes, it is true: I finally finished composing chapter ten (or, part of it anyway)! What you see below is the first part of the tenth chapter in my Ratatouille tale. I quite enjoyed spilling it out onto the screen, Iāll tell you that right now. Needless to say, I am extremely thankful for my vast knowledge of the English vocabulary (and for the wonderful thesaurus, as well). Eheheh.
Here, presented to you all, is part un of chapter des:
[b]CHAPTER DES: A RECIPE FOR DISASTER[/b]
A miniature clock, tenderly positioned on a hand-carved bedside table, chimed the hour in a shrill fashion. A young woman snapped her eyes open in an instant, yet chose to ignore the erumpant calls of the tick-tocker beside her. Nevertheless, the young clock continued its ceaseless cry; it seemed to be positively annoyed that any decent chef should sleep in, especially on a Saturday. And so, determined, it raised its voice to an ear-splitting whistle -- it was a whistle so loud, in fact, that even the French bulldogs who resided in the daisy-scented quarters next to the young woman's house began to bark and whine in reply. Unable to contain her anger any longer, the hard-headed French mistress rolled over onto her stomach and indignantly pressed her feather-down pillow close to her throbbing ears. However, this barely dented the situation, but instead seemed to cause the clock to whistle even louder.
"Fling" went the poor clock! A venemous glare shot from the eyes of the young woman, coupled with a rather murderous and self-satisfied smile that didn't match that of the dead tick-tocker in a nearby corner. A few springs protuded from the nonexistant contraption like broken bones -- the hands of the hour and minute would breath no more.
Muttering unsanitary, scurrilous mumblings under her breath, the now seemingly peaceful woman made to extract a broom from a rather untidy and perfume-tinted coat closet. After shuffling the last, pitiful remains of the clock from the carpeted floor to a midnight-painted wastebasket, the woman replaced the broom, adorned a pair of fluffy purple slippers, and went to tidy up her bed in a haphazard fashion before shifting her attention to a long window that nearly kissed the ceiling. Blinking the glare of the morning sun out of her eyes, Colette carefully let loose the doors that kept any wind or intruders from trespassing through the window frame and into her cozy residence. It was a peaceful, albeit breezy, morning in Paris that day. A pair of woodpeckers danced their way across the sky and into a nearby tree that was tinged with autumn leaves, both male and female playing away at the bark of their landing with much effort. Light and tender, a honey-scented wind whispered through the town and into Colette's short cut, velvet hair; she pushed her parellel bangs back in reply before abandoning the window for a bag of French roast coffee grounds in the kitchen....
Forty-seven minutes later, a pearly white chef's suit fitted snuggly on her delicate body and a light-weight purse hanging from her left shoulder, Colette locked the front door of her home, went over to her garage lock and typed in the correct password, extracted a black motorcycle from the interior of the garage, and rode off toward the destination she always headed for at 7:00 AM in the morning: [i]Gusteau's![/i] restaurant.
The gentle wind whipped back her hair ever so slightly, as if it was attempting to make it perform a soft ballet in mid-air. Far from disregarding the fanning sensation as disturbing, Colette let herself fall into the harmonizing clutches of the breeze, allowing her still drowsy eyes to close for but a moment in utter enjoyment. Despite having to wake up quite early every sunsrise, she had to admit that a whispy dose of fresh wind in the morning was rather relaxing. Her mind was temporarily dispatched from the wind by a couple of fall leaves blowing along the dusty sidewalk below and beside her; their demonstration of a rather uncoordinated tango was awkwardly amusing to watch. In the distance, the pair of woodpeckers played a gentle staccato to passery-by; it caught Colette's ears, as well. Nevertheless, Colette remembered to keep her eyes on the road a good percentage of the time, no matter what the circumstances.
Bumping along the cobbled street -- La Rouge Street -- was slightly unsettling, but it didn't matter; the seat of the Callahan motorcycle under which Colette sat was most comfortable, so much so that it almost reduced the rollercoaster-like bumps of the street to a mere, smooth skate on an ice rink. Colette smiled fondly at the two-wheeled racer. It was a most luxurious contraption -- with a good engine, a leather seat, and a lion-hearted demeanor, it had never failed to carry its mistress to whatever destination was in her sights. The handlebars carried with it a grip that felt sturdy and comforting to the touch, and its engine's garrulous, agrestal roar was enough to make any other cyclist scurry away in fright. Colette reved up the engine as she reminisced of all these facts the previous owner of the motorcyle had told her, scaring away a trio of street mice in the process. Her thoughts soon raced back to her destination, however. Just a few more miles and she would be walking through those highly-polished, oak-encrusted back doors of restaurant [i]Gusteau's![/i], tending to another stomach-rumbling crowd of customers and Linguini's clumsy madness. Impatiently, she choked the gas peddle....
Enjoy it, you fools. (snigger)
ā Mitch
Oh, fanstastic. Thank you for posting this new chapter. Iām really looking forward to the next part 
, it took awhile but I think you did a very good job .
MiniChuchan - Thank you very much, MiniChuchan! I appreciate it.
Haha. Itās funny how once I post up a new chapterā¦nobody reads it.
ā Mitch
Hey! Iām reading it now, lol. I havenāt had time lately, and I wasnāt sure whether or not you were continuing it.
FONY - Ohhhā¦ Okie-day then. Heheh. Yeah, I havenāt had much time myself to complete any fanction-related work, but I finally had a chance to continue on with the tale and I grabbed itā¦
ā Mitch
Oh, this story is still alive? 
Lol, just messinā with ya. 
Iām gonna start reading it now, itās been one heck of a day for meā¦
Maggie - Haha. Yeah, I really shouldnāt have abandoned this story for as long as I did, but thatās the way the rock rolls. Thank you for reading it, in any case. I hope you found it to your liking.
ā Mitch
Forgot to reply- I read it and I liked it. ^^ I still really envy your style of writing, and your ability to capture the characters. I look forward to reading more.
FONY - Thank you very much! Iāll do my best to keep the story updatedā¦
Your writing is fine, by the way. In fact, itās quite beautiful. Donāt put yourself down so much! Heheh.
ā Mitch
Update:
Due to the immense load of work I now heave across the realms of school, production on this particular story, Ratatouille, will henceforth be put on hold until early next year.
I hate having to cease āpublicationā. On the other hand, I also hate to see bad grades.
ā Mitch
Aww, that is okay Mitch. Weāll keep checking and waiting until you get that time to work and update it again.
The Star Swordsman - Heheh. Thanks, dude. As soon as I have some free time to write Iāll get back to the drawing board.
ā Mitch
Yeah school has a way of stifling the creative flow (or least making less time for it) but no worries, I still havent read the last chapter you posted!
lennonluvr9 - Heheh. Yes, indeed. Studies, a constant workload, and a job sure do take a lot out of a person. Iāll be sure to get back into the art of writing as soon as I have the time to compose a paragraph or two onto a piece of paper (or the computer screen), though.
Take your time with the chapters, by the way. No worries.
ā Mitch
Well, first I must say, fantabulous work, madame. Itās awesome to see how you interpreted things before the movie came out.
Second, a little bit of concrit: actually, donāt worry about perusing the thesaurus. Brevity is the soul of wit, as they say, and an army of adjectives can weigh down a story. Which is not to say looking through a thesaurus is bad, since sometimes itās necessary if you feel youāve used a word too many times or are being redundant, but not for everything, because sometimes simple is good. Like, āmidnight-paintedā. I think you could just say āblackā there, especially in describing a wastebasket. Just donāt fall into the harlequin-romance-novel-y trap of āorbsā instead of āeyesā and stuff like that. Which you havenāt, but yāknow.
Thatās just an anal nitpicky thing. Your writingās totally awesome ā that last chapter with Colette could practically be a fic on its own. I love those little slice-of-life vignettes, where thereās not really any action going on but you get a look at the inner workings of the charactersā minds.
kageri - First of all, I canāt neglect to say that you should write a story, dude. Your vocabulary and uncanny way of inserting a bit of wit into almost everything is most intriguing. I like it. Heheh.
Secondly, I thank you very much for both the comments and critique! The latter, especially, is most appreciated. Truth be told, youāre not the only one who has warned me of taking an overdose of āthesaurutheesisā (thesauri? haā¦) adjectives and the like. Iām constantly striving to learn new words and apply them to everyday life, but I see what you (and others) mean in that I kindaā¦tip the bucket a little too far over sometimes. I mustā¦cutā¦backā¦onā¦the wordsā¦! (snigger)
Again, thank you for the compliments and such. I love to write and would do it more if I had the time, but blast these clocks ā I donāt have enough seconds to fill in the capsules! extracts a hammerā¦
ā Mitch