It's weird that I get so finicky when people tell me that they read my blog. I mean, the main purpose of a blog is telling other people what's on your mind, isn't it? Yeah? Then what is my problem?!
I've been blogging for more than two years, since fifth grade, I think. My mom just thought I should start writing everything down, and as you can see, it's become a hobby. I guess my writing style has changed a lot since I first started blogging (well, of course it has). Instead of writing about *shudder* Webkinz and the Clique books like I used to in fifth and early sixth grade, I write about something much more complex: life. Well, the life of a dramatic seventh grader, to be specific.
Compliments. Another thing that I fuss about. I'm not the kind of person that likes to fish around for compliments, so when someone does compliment me, I get all weirded out, and instead of saying "Hey, thanks!", I wince and do this weird chuckle-like thing that sounds like this: Hmph. Or I don't say anything at all, which makes me look a bitch, or so I think. It's not that I don't want people to compliment me, I guess I'm just happier complimenting other people and not hearing anything back from them. Weird, I know, but that's me!
Posting. My posting method is very strange. I don't want to make a post every single gosh darn day, nor do I want to go weeks, months without posting. I'm happiest spreading out my posts with a few days in between them. I understand if some of you want to see more from me (yes, Mom, I am talking, er, writing about you here, same to you Jack), but I do happen to have a life, even if I do happen to spend most of my spare time reading, watching movies, or chatting with friends on Skype and Facebook. It's not like I write masterpieces. Please. I'm only thirteen years old! Or maybe I'm trapped inside the body of a bitter old woman.
the BAFTA (British Academy Film Awards), are tomorrow night. Kristen Stewart is nominated for a Rising Star award for her work in New Moon, when all she did was act depressed and proceed to jump off a cliff. If someone like Edward Cullen left me, I suppose I would be depressed, but Stephenie Meyer doesn't really understand reality, as in, there are no such things as charming sparkling vampires. But she does write fantasy novels so I shouldn't judge her. Plus, I most certainly am not on the New York Times Bestseller List.
Well, I hope you enjoyed this long ramble of a post. Most of my journal entries for Humanities end up like this, haha.