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Thursday, September 3, 2009


So I wrote about creative writing the other day. In case you didn't believe me, I really don't fit in there. Here is why.

We had a journal to write in class. The assignment was to write one paragraph about something/someone you love, and then write another paragraph about something/someone you hate. So I was all into it. I wrote my love paragraph first, and then went onto my hate paragraph, because I didn't automatically know what to write about. That could be because I hate sooo many things I couldn't narrow it down, but in reality I don't hate all that much. There is a lot, and I do mean a lot, that bothers me, or irritates me (like someone taking all of our food to work with him in his lunch box, so when I get up for breakfast I think we've been robbed) but not much that I truly hate.

So when everyone was done the guy asked if anyone wanted to share...everyone hated liars, or cheaters, or certain people who had done them wrong...but me, I hate folding socks. I absolutely can't stand matching socks together. I wrote an entire paragraph about how much I can't stand matching socks while these people poured their angry little hearts into bashing the person/thing they hated most. I felt pretty shallow, but then I realized that I'm probably the happiest person in the class if all I could come up with was hating socks. I'm learning that there isn't room in creative writing for happy people.

Another reason to be happy: one of my good friends is going to be a mom again! I am so excited for them. :)

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