Oh my god.

Has it really been so many months?! Okay, this is bad. This is very bad.

I’m so sorry for neglecting my little blog! There’s definitely something wrong with me lately. I can’t quite place it, and I’m really sorry.

Okay, so quite a bit has happened since I last posted… My goodness. I’m a sophomore now! Like, officially and everything. Marching band has become more of a thing to be wary (and weary) of instead of a sanctuary, which is a bit unfortunate. I broke up with boyfriend a while ago and I’m still single (he’s not… whoops) and I’m kind of really annoyed at the lack of appealing gentlemen around. Or just the lack of gentlemen. Gentlemen who aren’t girls. Because I am quite a gentleman, but I would not date myself, would I? Anyways, knitting has come to dominate my life, which is a bit worrisome as of late, because I’m scared that I’m never going to become a writer.

Let me go into this now, if I may.

Ever since around seventh grade, I’ve carried a little brown journal around in my purse, along with a blue Snoopy and Woodstock pencil tin, and whenever I had a moment, I would write in my diary, filling pages and pages, keeping a tiny calender in it for every month, keeping track of how many books I’d gone through, writing faster and faster with each passing journal. It was more than standard for me to break it out during class and write for as long as I could before being told to put it away. And I prided myself on this. And I kind of wanted to be labelled “the girl who writes”. I mean, it’s a bit of a silly thing to want to be labelled anything, but since we all do it anyways, I might as well promote a label that I liked, right?

Some girls are that girl on dance team, that cheerleader, that blue-haired one, some boys are that one with the beard, that one who plays guitar, that one who scratches his name onto the desk. I wanted to be “that girl with the diary, the one who always writes during class.” Like, when people would talk about me (as I am wont to do them), they would say, “Yeah, you know, Sami. Sami? That chick with the diary, she writes all the time during Spanish and stuff?”

But now, I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ve become, “Sami? You know, that girl who knits under the desk during history and stuff.”

Because I don’t really write as much anymore. I mean, clearly you can tell that I haven’t updated my blog in a while! And looking at my diary, I’ve been writing maybe once a week in it! Why? Because I’m knitting! All the time that I would take during school to write, I spend knitting. And all the time at home that I would take to write, I spend writing on Tumblr. Which doesn’t really count.

Anyways, I woke up this morning, and hand this really bizarre moment. I was just laying there in bed and I didn’t see my sister around, and I dunno, I guess I looked at something in my room and then a small voice said to me (well, it was my voice, and it was in my mind), “You’re going to be a famous writer someday. You will write wonderful novels and people will love you. Also, why did you stop dreaming? It’s not immature to dream, you know. It’s not something that just seventh graders do. I get that you don’t like seventh graders. You’re a tenth grader. You can dream. You’re going to be famous and write books. Stop knitting all the time. Make time to read and to write, okay? No, not right now, you’re completely void of thought, it’s early in the morning. What the hell are you doing,  no, don’t get up, you can’t just read right now… Okay, fine…”

Anyway, I thought this, and to myself, I thought back, “Oh, you’re quite right, aren’t you? I can just write stuff and people aren’t going to laugh at me and think I’m stupid, are they? Well, I will, and maybe, silently, somebody will, but fuck ’em, I’m a cool freaking person! Maybe I ought to keep writing that zombie story! Not right now? Well, I should at least read The Young Unicorns, then, right? No? Well, I’m going to!”

So here I am, guys. I’m going to keep writing. I mean, of course I’m going to keep knitting, too, but I’m going to try to write more often. Or read. I need to do more reading under the desk…

Anyway, let it be known that the Chickedy is back in black and ready to… attack? Agh. This is why I hate rhyming. So corny.

Be seeing you, chicks!


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