Here I am again. This morning, as an early birthday present, my lovely mum brought home a pencil sharpener, fancy watercolour paper, and a gleaming black pen. Needless to say I was thrilled. What is so fascinating and wonderful about stationary? Is it the smell? The feel? The newness? The sheer number of clean white pages just waiting for scribbles and sketches of the imagination?
Aaaanyway! Speaking of birthdays. As said, mine is coming up, and I've got to get this out there: I feel like I'm still 9...or 15...or some younger age than I am! Just not 17. Odd. Also, not that I'm a genius now or anything, but I think a universal thought might be: I wish I were smarter younger.
So there are your tidbits of batty musings for the day. Go! Go be a normal person. Us non-normals will continue to puzzle life out in this corner here.
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