I need to finish my essay. REALLY. It's due this evening, and that's on an extension! I got sick last week, and so was unable to finish (or even start it) by the deadline. But...(surprise surprise) I'm having issues again. 

Yeah. You think I can't hear you all groaning? Think again.

I'm supposed to write an an analytical or explicatory essay on a book, movie, song or poem. I have to find a message inside the book, movie song or poem, and I have to show how the author conveys the message using examples from the above four.

I decided on The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. I'm going to write about Aslan's sacrifice, and how, to obtain something good, you have to give something up.

Make sense? No, it doesn't.

Yay me. I worked out the tale of Alejandra's bitterness. I needed it to be something horrid, heart-wrenching and life-changing. Something that would understandably make a person cold, cruel and bitter. Because I don't want people to hate her. She's mean, she's nasty, she's a piece of work, but I don't want people to hate her! So I needed a way to make people sympathise with her. Of course, no past is an excuse for cruelty, but I wanted them to understand her point of view. Why she thinks that you have to be feared to be respected.

Behold, my first character collage!

Why am I so tired all the time? Really, it's annoying.

No matter how early I go to bed, or how late I sleep in, I'm always a zombie. EVERY. Single. Day.

I know this probably has something to do with my lifestyle. What I eat, how much exercise I get, etc...

So, I spend the day wanting to sleep, mumbling, walking around in circles, and then becoming all energetic and hyper five minutes before bed, so I'm lying awake in my bed for two hours. Fun.

I know I should probably eat better. As in, eat three times a day instead of pigging out at dinner and not making lunch and breakfast because I'm too lazy.

I should also get my heart-rate up. As in, go for a walk, chase my brothers outside, do cartwheels in the school yard 'till I'm dizzy, fly a kite, that sort of thing. The hard part is starting. Once I'm doing it, then I enjoy it. I just can't seem to motivate myself to just get up.

I finally got to hold Septimus yesterday! ahahahaa!

Mum needed to get dressed, so I offered to hold him, after assuring her that my hands were clean, I had just been sterilized, and I wouldn't kiss him. I wouldn't even breathe on him.

I satisfied her, I guess. Because I got to cuddle him when I got home from church too. He even fell asleep on my shoulder! eep! That pretty much made my day. Well, that and watching Persuasion with my Grandma.

It's almost summer! Yaay! That means lighter skirts, t-shirts, sandals and walks to the library whenever I feel like it. I'm lucky, because it only takes about 20 minutes to walk there, so whenever I need a new book to read, I can just walk down.

It also means swimming! In the river. Instead of our crowded, chlorine-y pool. ick.

Have I ever told you how much I love need sunshine? I think I'm solar-powered. No, I'm serious!

I get these wonderful, delicious, golden bursts of energy when I'm in the sun. I feel...alive.

I also feel wonderfully exuberant and joyful. Doesn't matter how depressed, angry, annoyed, or generally miserable I feel, stick me in the sunshine for a few minutes, and I'll be the happiest person alive.

So now you know why I hate winter and love summer.

Tah dah.

I need a life. I need a job, I need a productive hobby. So yeah. I need a life. Because really, all I do all day is read lots of books, daydream, write my book that probably won't ever be published, do a bit of school, a design blog-ish things that no one wants.

I wish I could get my old job at the consignment store back! That was my dream job. Huh-lo? Working with clothes, and organizing outfits to display!!! Angele and I have always been interested in clothes and fashion. We used to spend hours dressing up, or playing this Barbie Fashion Show computer game she had. 

Ciao ciao all, (I must finish my essay! Pray for me, and someone tell me the patron saint of writers?)