The Colour And The Shape

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I’ve been playing guitar quite a lot the past few days, and now I have peels and callouses on my fingers from my hardcore playing. I’ll need some band-aids and pawpaw cream, thank you! πŸ˜›

James and I had a fight on New Year’s Day. Which sucked, because you know I was trying to be a better person and everything, and I sort of lashed out with some rather nasty things. But we’re okay now and we’ve sorted out the problems. 😍

Other than that, I haven’t had a serious argument or fight with anyone so far this year. I’m going to try and keep it that way. If anyone tries to start a fight, or drama, I’m just going to back off.

So, the other day (in 2009…), Dyron was trying to keep the peace amongst some rage and drama on Twitter, and suggested we all go back to our younger days and get a colouring book, colour in a picture and take a photo. Good times.

I didn’t have a colouring book so I printed something from the internet and coloured that in:

picture I coloured in

Ignore the fact that I look a bit like a 12-year-old (no offense to anyone who is 12 years old, but I’m 18!)… I tend to look younger than I am sometimes, heh. πŸ˜›

But colouring in – I hadn’t done it for years. I really enjoyed it when I was little, especially entering competitions, even if they were rigged and they chose winners who didn’t even have good colouring-in skills.

I guess I was more into reading. One time I won a summer reading program, and I won this wonderful, beautiful book about dogs. It was a huge book with so much information on dogs, with pictures and everything. I still have it. β™₯️

I want to share a funny memory I have of my childhood. It’s something that I blogged about a while ago, and only a couple of you may remember because back then, not many people read my blogs.

When I was in third grade, my class had the classroom right at the end of a hall. And from our classroom door we could see the storeroom window.

On a rainy day, my friends and I stood outside the classroom by the door. Looking at the storeroom window, we all saw a ghost. To us, it was real. To anyone else we told, it’s fair to say they believed us.

We were only around eight years old and seeing something white in a window, moving, was obviously scary. 😧

So I started The Ghost Club. I started the whole question whether or not the ghost was the good ghost Lady Lucy, or the bad ghost Bleeding Barry. We had a list of all the “good” ghosts. Which were really just nicked from books.

I think, deep down, I knew it wasn’t real. Maybe a floating plastic bag. The thing that amazed me most… was how everyone came to believe me. πŸ˜…

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