Okay, so I am obviously not a very reliable blogger, but I am trying really hard. I happen to have no computer access and I happen to hate blogging from my phone which is exactly what I happen to be doing right now. I promise that I will get better as soon as break ends, I’ve just been super distracted with life and love and everything in between.
Lucky for me, I’ve gotten loads better at typing on this thing, so I should get a round (or two) of applause for that. I have this friend named Jonas, and he was actually the inspiration for the first blog I ever had, because he was always just so smart and witty and I just loved reading his blog posts.
The reason that I am bringing him up today is that he would frequently blog from his phone, which I believe was also just a full touchscreen phone. He was pretty amazing.
I haven’t seen him in a very very long time and I quite miss him even though he was so much better than me at everything.
The coolest thing was that I bused to his house this one time while I was staying in the cities with my grandma, and he convinced me to like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so now every time that I eat one, I think of him.
Moving on from the nostalgia now, I really would like to apologize for being so unreliable, but there has been one thing getting me down.
When I’m casually browsing through other people’s blogs…I notice that there are soooo many people that are just generally better writers than I am. At first it’s just like:
Ohhh good for them that they’re so awesome and amazing and talented.
But then I start thinking about how I wanted to be a writer for so long, and I spent hours doing stuff to better myself at writing and then I go:
Damn them all! Maybe I would have a career if I was that good, and my books and blogs would end up being on Oprah’s seal of approval list!
Now really, it can be said that I’m only seventeen and that I really do have a good start, but I don’t believe that one bit. I mean, look at the guy who wrote the Eragon books. Well, really, just look at the first book because the next ones kinda go over the edge as far as how descriptive he gets, but I’m jealous of him because he did something I couldn’t do.
He became famous because of him imagination. I mean fuck! How cool is that? Of course I do understand that a lot of hard work went into writing those books, but in the end, people didn’t love the books for the hours he spent pouring over the manuscript, did they? No, they loved the books because of the imagination, the good story line.
Here I am just blathering on about writing, and I’m really getting nothing done. Not making you laugh or think or any of that. I’m actually not that good at making people laugh. Not good at making them cry, not good at expressing how I feel through the text in this blog, because then it would be boring to the people who actually might read it. I could post me ‘deep’ poetry and ask for your opinions, but why bother?
So, writing is out of my career field. The one thing that I truly love and never ever get sick of is music. I sing and dance and play music every day. It’s amazing, and if there weren’t so many people going into that field, I would do it.
Can I be witty or funny today? I think not, so this humpday has officially been wasted. It doesn’t matter though, seeing as how so few people even bother to read my blog.
I’m not giving up though. No way. This is something that makes me happy, and I don’t care what you OR the cops say.