Filthy French.

French, why are you so daunting? After working on my French lessons for about an hour I got tired of it and have decided I'm going to do something else for a little bit and try to pick it back up later. The pronunciation on some of those words kills me. Ugh. Here I've been thinking I was saying them correctly, turns out I was wrong. Or the mic on my computer is screwy and the computers not interpreting it how I'm saying it. Who knows? Oh well. I'll get it down sooner or later. I swear I'm gonna stay committed to it, AND to writing more on my blog, obviously. Yay! Haha. Now to see if it can withstand the real test, time.

I don't know why I ever stopped writing. It's fun. I think I'd forgotten how much pleasure writing about my life and the things that go on can bring. It's nice. It's like a secret journal. The kind that I always dreamt about having as a kid. The antique-y kind with a nifty little lock on it (that never really kept anyone out). I can remember certain little things from my childhood that I pined after, unbeknownst to everyone else though. Looking back I really realize how much of myself I kept hidden. Always being the good little boy I was expected to be. The mature, responsible one who just did whatever it took to please people.