It seems to be the thing kids are doing these days. So, like getting a Facebook and 'txting' my friends, I'm gonna jump on this bandwagon.
"Oh great, another teenage girl with a life-blog," you're thinking. But I'm not like other girls and therefore my blog will not be like other blogs. Now that I've called myself unique, you're still thinking that I'm gonna be like every other teen girl in America, they're all so uniquely the same! But I assure you, it's not like that. I'm jumping on the bandwagon ironically. Because using the word 'ironically' is another teen fad. I'm just living it up with the teen fads over here. You might as well call me Joe Average for how typical American teenager I'm being. Actually, don't. If you call me Joe I won't know you're talking to me, and it won't be good. So let's just stick to Tom or Autom, okay? Okay.
Anyway, welcome to my life. It's not really that interesting, or at least I don't think it is… maybe you'll think it's interesting, I dunno.
Take today, for example. At 8:17am I wake up. My feet don't actually leave the warm, comfy haven of my blankets 'til 9:14. In the time between 8:00 and 9:00 I'm laying in bed and chatting with my older brother, Jacob, who's room I'm currently taking over sharing. We just moved into this old house and the room that'll eventually be mine needs a lot of work; multiple walls and a ceiling have to be pulled down, a new doorway built, all the wiring redone, and it all needs a good, hard scrub + a couple coats of paint, among other things. All the other rooms in the house need a lot of the same work, so everything we're working with right now is temporary. Temporary bathroom, temporary kitchen, temporary shared bedroom, temporary plastic bin to store my clothes in, and sleeping on an army cot - temporarily. You get the point. Until further notice I'm bunking in the bro's room, much to his (and my) displeasure. We've shared a room for 15 of the 16 years I've been alive. We're both kind of over it. At 9:12 I decide it's time to get up and go downstairs. It takes me two more minutes to actually begin executing that chain of actions.
* * *
I'm downstairs now. While making my way to the tiny, temporary bathroom, I'm confronted by my mother. She's making blueberry muffins for breaky (I said 'breaky' just for you, bro. I know you love it when I say that) and wants to know if I'll partake in her oven baked fruity delights.
MUM wants to offer you breakfast:
-accept to make MUM happy (+ 2 exp, +3 good person, -1 personal pleasure)
-decline and upset your MUM (+1 exp, +1 personal pleasure, -4 good person)
Now, I'm not a huge fan of blueberries. In fact, I'm not a fan at all. But I accept her offer so that she'll be happy. It's not often that I make this woman happy, and even less often that I'm happy to do it. But her offer of an easy breakfast (albeit, not one I particularly enjoy) is easier than the alternative of fighting for space in the tiny, temporary kitchen. So blueberry muffins it is. The six of us crowd around the temporary dining room table, sitting on an assortment of chairs and a stool, Mum, Dad, Jacob, me, my 22 year old autistic brother Daniel, and the woman who comes on weekdays to help take care of Dan. There's not a single inch of elbow room to be found anywhere around the table. Dad and I are both on our computers, he's working, I'm starting this blog post (And playing around with color schemes on the blog).
After breaky (Love you, bro!), Dad and I go driving because I need the practice. I'd like to give you some humorous story about my driving escapade, but it was entirely uneventful. I promise, the moment I have a humorous story about a driving escapade, you'll be the first ones to hear about it. Until then, you'll have to content yourself with hearing about other stuff. For now, I've gotta go. So here's a quote to end the post:
"Happiness can be found, even in
the darkest of times, if one only
remembers to turn on the light."
- Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (movie)