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I was tagged by AV, again, here, to do this thing where I have to say if I'm guilty or not of the things listed below. I find these things quite fun, and not that time-consuming at all, although, these posts of honesty usually raise a lot of questions, so they're loaded, which makes it annoying.
But, I'd be happy to respond, I guess. Here it goes:
RULE 1- You can only say Guilty or Innocent.
RULE 2- You are not allowed to explain anything unless someone comments and asks!
RULE 3- Copy and paste this into your notes , delete my answers, type in your answers and tag some blogger friends to answer this.
- Asked someone to marry you? Guilty.
- Ever kissed someone of the same sex? Guilty.
- Danced on a table in a bar? Guilty.
- Ever told a lie? Guilty.
- Had feelings for someone whom you can’t have back? Guilty.
- Kissed a picture? Guilty.
- Slept in until 5 PM? Guilty.
- Fallen asleep at work/school? Guilty.
- Held a snake? Guilty.
- Been suspended from school? Guilty.
- Worked at a fast food restaurant? Innocent.
- Stolen from a store? Guilty.
- Been fired from a job? Innocent.
- Done something you regret? Guilty.
- Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Guilty.
- Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Guilty.
- Kissed in the rain? Innocent.
- Sat on a roof top? Guilty.
- Kissed someone you shouldn't? Guilty.
- Sang in the shower? Guilty.
- Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? Guilty.
- Shaved your head? Innocent.
- Had a boxing membership? Innocent.
- Made a boy/girlfriend cry? Innocent.
- Been in a band? Innocent.
- Shot a gun? Innocent.
- Donated Blood? Guilty.
- Eaten alligator meat? Innocent.
- Eaten cheesecake? Guilty.
- Still love someone you shouldn't? Guilty.
- Have/had a tattoo? Innocent.
- Liked someone, but will never tell who? Guilty.
- Been too honest? Guilty.
- Ruined a surprise? Guilty.
- Ate in a restaurant and got really bloated that you couldn't walk after wards? Guilty.
- Erased someone in your friends list? Guilty.
- Dressed in a woman’s clothes (if you’re a guy) or man’s clothes (if you’re a girl)? Innocent.
- Joined a pageant? Innocent.
- Been told that you’re handsome or beautiful by someone who totally meant what they said? Guilty.
- Had communication with your ex? Innocent.
- Got totally drunk on the night before exam? Guilty.
- Got totally angry that you cried so hard? Guilty.
I'm not going to tag anybody, because I feel like I haven't been blogging regularly enough to have the moral right to make others blog. Whoever wants to do it can, though. Just be sure to let me know so I can take a look at it.
It's the weekend again, which means I can return to blogging with all the rest of you. I'm sure it's been a long week for all of you, but I hope you all have something to make you feel better this weekend, and something to look forward to this month.
How have I been doing? Well, I have a little something to share. It gets me a bit emotional, but in a good way, so here we go:
This blogging thing that I started three or four months ago has escalated to a point where the people in my real life are telling me I should publish books. They tell me they admire what I've done, that my writing is definitely very commercial and relevant.
I, with complete honesty, do not want to think about it. I think my skills are above average, but that is as far as I am willing to be proud of. It is not my humbleness that makes me think I'm not good enough, it is my practicality and my honesty that makes me doubt I am writer material. I am only seventeen. I am a student that achieves reasonably well in English class. But the reason people under twenty generally do not start publishing at that age is because you need many years of practice and experience in order to be great, to be truly fabulous, extraordinary and unique.
It's scary to have my mother dreaming of me succeeding as an author. Of course, an autobiography, novels and perhaps a 'Do You Hate It Too?' book have crossed my mind, but I am in disbelief. I understand that people in their youth can publish books. I get that I can do it if I worked at it.
But my heart isn't there right now. I want to publish books some day, but within the next three years seems a little soon and it scares me so much, I think I might pee a little. I'm damn frightened of that sort of fame.
Nonetheless, I still love the praise. In the blogging world, people care about me, and have found my writing and my life to be 'honest', 'beautiful', 'charming', 'humorous', 'mature beyond [my] years', 'excellent', 'interesting', 'thoughtful', 'thought-provoking' and 'emotional'. Someone two months ago said they respected me for being so honest, despite the fact that I don't believe I'm very respectable. I uncomfortably carry a high reputation on Blogger, when I don't reckon I am reputable.
This particular blog of mine urges me to be honest, and honestly, frankly, really, I believe I'm just a kid with familial, scholastic, romantic, and friend-related problems, with funny stories, with emotions, with a life like everybody else. I have always told people this piece of advice: you make your own life interesting. And that is what I've done, and what I hopefully will continue to do. I think anyone can do this and could write as well as I do.
Now, I actually get fanmail. Bloggers add me on Facebook. I actually have a social life that reaches further than it ever has before. People know my name, and think of my words and ideas while at work and school. People know me, and think I'm friggin' hilarious and wonderful. For most of the time, I don't believe I walk on the streets everyday, with people all over the world that expect me to write when I get home. I don't believe I've learned so much about so many mind-boggling things from being amongst such a talented, thoughtful cyberclique. I find it hard to believe in things that are this good.
And the rate at which all of this is growing is exponential.
Lately, I have frequently been stopping in the middle of my work to daydream.
And I find myself thinking, shit, what the Hell have I done to my life?
Is this really happening to me?
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