Some of you might know that I'm part way (well, I guess 1/2 way, since I'm up to my 11th birthday and I just turned 22) through my autobiography. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I finish it; I'm not sure that it will ever be finished. I'm writing the story of my life not necessarily because I'm an interesting person, but mostly because I have a truly terrible memory, and if I didn't write it all down, I would forget my entire life.
I'm not sure if I'm going to publish it - I don't know if anyone would want to read it. It's not really a story of great triumph over evil, or even strength in the face of adversity. Sure, I've had times of being tough and strong in my life, but I've also had lots and lots of times where I've just wanted to give up.
I'm out of things to blog for today. I don't want to blog anymore about Christchurch; it's not that I don't love you, it's just that I have no words. There's nothing I can say to make this better, or to go away or to even help at all, so for my own sanity, I need to take a step back today. Instead, I'm going to share one of the stories out of my autobiography, about what I want to be when I grow up. It was written in March 2007, and is unedited (except to add the photo of the cute baby). It's just part of one story out of a chapter about 'what I want to be when I grow up'. I'm not really sure how the autobiography is going to work, it's mostly a collection of short stories at this stage.
