If you read the time stamp of this entry (if you’re in the UK), you’ll probably realise that I’m writing this at past 3am in the morning. Judging by the amount of typos I’m making, it may well end up past 4am. No. I’m not drunk. I am slightly crazed through lack of sleep and effort to research/find an agent. I will secure one, eventually. It may take me some time, but I am determined. Someone, somewhere, will see through this hazy lair of craziness and realise that I actually can write quite well. That’s not me saying I’m amazing. I’m not amazing. I wish I was, but then, that’s why I don’t like editing so much. I get mad with myself for not having written it perfectly in the first place. What can I say? I’m a fruit cake and a perfectionist.
I’d also rather like a toasted, buttered teacake now… preferably with a mug of tea.
I also have a crazy online family. We seem to have settled into a pattern whereby two of us who frequent my chatroom (me and Andrew, funnily enough) have become parental figures. The other lads who go there look up to us a bit. It’s bizarre and seems to have happened over the years that we’ve spoken to most of them. It amuses me in a way because I really do feel like I could take them home and pretend they were my kids and I was their mother (this is nothing weird, just so you know. They’re all about 14 or above and I wouldn’t want to do anything weird with them anyway. I regard them all like I would teenage sons. I’ll stop digging my hole deeper). Some of them come to us when they have problems or need to discuss things or want help with homework and others make me feel proud of them with what they’ve achieved. The funny thing is that Andrew and I sometimes sit and discuss them as if they really were our kids and we were making sure that they were doing well at school or something. Some of the people who go in our chatroom do not fall under this category. They do fall under the category of family friend, but if they ever upset one of the lads we regard as our kids, they would be have a severe ticking off. The chatroom, by the way, is here if you ever want to visit: http://sinfullydelicious.synthasite.com/chatroom.php
That’s something else I should mention; my parents have put a huge hole through one of the inner walls. That’s right. The wall that goes between their bedroom and the stairway has a huge hole in it. They say they’re putting a cupboard in it… I’m not sure why this required them to put a hole through the wall, though. It leaves me and my younger brother with very little hope. If they have such inadequate amounts of common sense, then what common sense must we be left with?
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