What A Dreadful Idea
That's an awfully cruel observation to make from across the street.
I've just figured out what everyone else does, and now I will rebel.
If he were completely unique, you would call him crazy.
I utterly missed the anniversary of the blog, and then that of meeting Necker. I didn't meet him last October - what was I thinking? And that's just it. I don't remember anything anymore. When'd I start blogging? I think because of Belle du Jour, actually, and I don't think I've ever told anyone that. The first one ever had a black background with a photo of hot pink boots and tiny hot pink text. I don't remember what I wrote about. It's all in the images these days.
I've been out of the house so much that there's still torilla chips left. I read "chaos" as "ghosts", and I wrote "but's" instead of "but it's". Homecoming's tonight. I didn't go to any one of "the game"s, and I'll be falling asleep studying.
The third grade, I've realized, was a complete waste. I could already add and subtract, I couldn't multiply and divide anyway, I was reading The Lord of the Rings on my own time, I already hated science, and I haven't written cursive since. I had no friends. I took riding lessons and I wanted to play an instrument, but I gave it all up.
I can't remember what I was thinking a month ago, and I hate who I was last week. Tuesday night was amazing, and I'm already forgetting what I promised to remember. Yesterday afternoon showed me that summer's really good and over. Alex, I'm sorry I didn't find you. You missed one great reading of a picture book.
If you can be imitated, you're not worth it. But if you're not worth imitating...!