I’m back!!!! Well, I didn’t really leave. I’ve just forgotten to blog. Well, not forgotten. I just have the attention span of an underaged chimp on a sugar high. But hey, it can work to my advantage. New thoughts, new ideas, new adventures, right? Since the past time I blogged, I’ve created a bucket list, started writing another short story, created five Pinterest boards, composed countless new songs, eaten soap (more about that later), eaten flowers (I’ll get to it), waded in a creek, put buttercups in my hair and stood on the rocks at my school, become totally obsessed with a certain app, etc. etc. etc. etc. et.c.et.ce.t.ec.et.ec.et.ec.et.ec.ef.et.ec.ert.edadsfajkleopijf
Gotta love my buzzing mind. I love it. It’s wonderful. I’ve become so social recently, I can’t go an afternoon without hanging out with someone. I mean sure, I’m an extrovert, but not to that extent. But hey, I’ve got all these ideas, and I’ve just got to bounce them off other people. I want to talk!
Anyways, the soap. I’ve been especially interested in eating strange things recently. Today in school, after washing my hands, I decided that hey…soap smells good…so it must taste good, right? I shoved a handful of foam in my mouth, and immediately discovered I was wrong. Of course now I know that soap doesn’t taste good. Well, I knew that before. Somehow I just get to thinking that maybe this time will be different. I lose my better judgement, in a sense. But hey, it was a nice experience, other than the bitter flavor. You haven’t really lived if you haven’t had foamy soap in your mouth.
And flowers! Flowers aren’t as bad as people make them out to be. Dandelions are bitter, in a honey sort of way. Buttercups (the stems, at least) are the same. Cherry blossom flowers feel so silky and wonderful. Hey, I should write a book about the tastes of various flowers. I’m my own guinea pig.
Last night, I got a wonderful idea for a short story. I wanted to start writing it, but the damned meds made me fall asleep before I could organize my characters and plot lines. I mean, I guess sleep is good. I’m glad they help me sleep, but there just aren’t enough hours in the day, you know? If I could control time, there would be 48 hours in a day. I’d spend my required seven in school, a total of three for meals, seven for sleep (maybe six or five or four, depending on my inspiration level), and the rest could be for learning to skateboard and ride a horse and play chess and writing and composing and playing my online burger-flipping game.
Anyways, yeah. I’m going to go outside on the swing and feel the fresh breeze tousle my hair, drink in the vibrant colors with widened hazel eyes, and feel like an artsy princess. Bye!