Today’s my mom’s birthday. So, because I’m a nerd, I wrote a sonnet.
(It’s on my other blog, the one people actually read. See: The First Site.)
Being a good daughter, I didn’t write her a birthday present until today. Thankfully, we had a math test. I am remarkably fast at doing math tests and finished about forty minutes before the period ended (being an hour-and-a-half long period).
That was when I wrote the sonnet.
This implies that I am also unnaturally good at writing sonnets. Which I am. It scares me sometimes that I’ll be good at everything I do and then when I don’t know how to do something I will a) give up, b) start crying and be depressed, or c) become a really bad person who is scared to do anything in life.
The cure to this is: dancing. I am 99.99% sure that no one is naturally good at dancing. Especially ballet, which I have fallen in love with.
Disclaimer: if you are naturally really good at dancing, wow. That is really awesome. You should dance a lot. Not enough people dance a lot.
It involves mice and cheese. I illustrated it (with a mouse and a cheese, badly drawn), I dug around in my backpack for decent coloring supplies, I colored it with a blue pen, which I think is the only thing capable of coloring without destroying art in my backpack.
It’s a nice sonnet, at least. I think it made up for the weirdness of the present.