Day Seven Of Shamelessness

Share your efforts at something you don’t think you do well.

There is no debate here. I won’t try to defend myself, I won’t argue, I won’t come up with excuses. I not only don’t think I do this well, I whole-heartedly admit that I am absolutely terrible. Given my lineage, I should be practically prodigal, it should be in my blood, coursing through my veins, sweating out of my pores. And yet, there is no denying that I am simply horrible.

Look up. Waaaaay up.

See something new? Now, press refresh. Press it again. And again. I made five new headers that are supposed to load randomly. If I did it right. Did I do it right?

I get a little squirrelly when this place looks the same for too long and so I tend to mess with stuff when I get bored with it. I used to do that with my hair when I didn’t have a blog. I’ve had mid-waist long blond hair, dark brown bobs, boy-short bright red, a thousand perms, and everything in between. Right now my hair is longish because I haven’t cut it in over a year, it’s my natural colour because I haven’t dyed it in about five, and the texture resembles that of a bird’s nest because I care far too little to either nurture the natural curl or straighten it with a flat iron. And that’s because I have a blog to change when I get squirrelly instead of that which resides on my head.

I bet you’re glad you took the time out of your busy schedule to read about my stupid blog and my ugly hair. I’m nothing if not a waste of time.

Carry on about your business.

The Screen Is A Shield

Using the screen as a shield and the keyboard as a dagger, written words have the power to pierce the flesh and bleed a person dry. They can also lift spirits and elicit joy, elation, and a warm sense of home. But some words, words written with the bitter spit of bile, they can cut the flesh and tear at the heart, scratch at the mind, make a nest and live there, itching away at the surrounding gray matter, never letting a person forget.