At the moment I have the first two paragraphs of a history essay hand written, on a piece of paper. The paper is in a closed pad of paper. The closed pad of paper also happens to be in a folder. A closed folder. The closed folder is also in my rucksack. And the rucksack is in my dining room, a whole floor away from where I currently am. Why am I telling you this? To be perfectly honest, it's probably some sort of subconscious cry for held. But I actually think I'm telling you this because I can. The generally accepted function of a blog is to inform the adoring masses* about the goings on in one's life. Referring to myself in third person, on the regal ting. And because my life is boring the biggest thing going on right now is a measly history essay. It doesn't even need to get done tonight, I'm going into college to do it tomorrow morning. I'm not really pressed for time, in fact we got set a very reasonable deadline. A whole week to write 2-4 sides of A4. I've wandered off of topic. Actually, in true Patrick style, I never had a topic. So I shall do the other thing Patrick does, leave you abruptly and feeling disappointed. Soz.
*the term masses has been used loosely
No comments:
Post a Comment