Violet, blue, and silver

I was sick yesterday. I spent most of Mass in the cry room, laying down 0n the pew with my coat as a pillow. A woman brought me some water and a box of tissues, which I appreciated. But there were two specific people there who made me considerably less miserable. One was about two years old, the other had probably just gotten the hang of walking.

The two-year-old smiled and waved at me, the baby stood in front of me, tearing bits off of tissues and handing them to me, then tried to run off with my glasses. It’s impossible to put the happiness I felt into words.

Also, I’ve given up internet for Lent. Everything but my blog, email (but no chat), and Wikipedia. No stupid, time-wasting YouTube videos, computer games, or personality quizzes.

But iTunes isn’t internet.

Also, I can’t keep going with only posting on Sundays. I’m too forgetful. I have an idea for a post on Wednesday, forget to write it down, then I forget the idea by Sunday.

It’s quite frustrating. That’s why I’ve stopped.

Don’t you hate people who talk like, “omg lol i hav 2 go 2 the stor cu l8r!!!!!” And post that on their BLOG? Not necessarily that, but still! No offense to people who do talk like that. (But I doubt they’d be reading this blog anyways.)

I’m unlikely to put a particularly long blog post, as you are probably able to tell by now, and this seems long enough to me.

And so, I finish with a totally random question:

What’s your favourite colour?

I decided

I’m posting every Sunday, with some exceptions.

…That’s all.

Changing the subject

The most frustrating thing in my life is being able to draw animals well enough to make up my own and draw them convincingly, but then filling up ten pages of my sketchbook with scratched-out attempts at the same human. I can’t even draw manga.

Quite frustrating.

I’m also very picky about pencils. To the point where I won’t even USE a pencil unless it’s Ticonderoga brand. I’m picky about everything, really. I like my pizza to have stretchy, melty cheese and juicy sauce. I retie both my shoes if one isn’t tight enough. I read first person books set either in the future or in a different world. I refuse to wear anything that’s any shade of pink. I could go on.

I’ve been called by a lot of people (including yours truly) the pickiest person in the world. I’ve also been called a hipster. And I don’t disagree with that, either.

I doubt you’ve heard of Poko Lambro, or Andy McKee, or Audiomachine, or Two Steps From Hell, and I doubt you’ve heard any Owl City besides Fireflies, or any Foster The People besides Pumped Up Kicks.

I’m really just writing down thoughts as I think them. How come I can write so well about myself, but fail at writing about anything else?

Quite frustrating.

By the way, if you want to know anything about any kind of bird, I will happily go on about them for two hours.

Why is it that I talk to people only when they ask me a question, but pour out everything on my blog?

Anyone who knows what autism is would probably know I have it.

This is starting not to make any sense. I should stop.

I’m off to fangirl about The Hunger games and doodle the characters obsessively.

Au revoir, mon amis!