note: I have written
this first chapter in the booksie editor and I have now spell
checked and re-edited it. It was written late at night when I had
NO idea what I was doing, so please forgive me it\'s idiocy. If I
were to publish my auotobiography it would start with the second
chapter. But I\'m NOT going to publish this. it is strictly for
booksie, and those fellow booksians who might wish for a glimps
into my life, and into my mind. Please enjoy!! Also, if random
dashes pop up I don't know why. They just do. :(
I realized that most biographies look back into the past and discuss things that have already happened. So I decided to write an auto biography that I will write as my story is unfolding. It is made especially for booksie and it will be strange, unusual and hopefully be amusing. Please enjoy!!
Time is the best teacher, but unfortunately, it kills all of its students. - Robin Williams.
My name is Amity Willows and I was born in 1994, which means I\\\'m thirteen years old. It took me thirteen years to figure that out.
I live in a nice apartment with my mom and my dad. I could have said \\\'my parents\\\' instead of \\\'my mom and my dad\\\' and saved myself time.
I think time is strange. You can only go forward. Unless you\\\'re a character in a sci fi novel, that is. And you can\\\'t really look back, like with a crystal ball. At least I can\\\'t. Maybe I\\\'m just a faulty unit, a broken seer, like a broken dryer.
My dryer is broken. Well, my parents' dryer is broken. It worked fine until it was moved from our old house to my grandparents house and then to our new house. I blame the movers. What? I have to blame someone and they are the most likely suspects.
My room is draped in drying clothes. I have a pair of jeans that has been drying for years and if you took that seriously then someone should write GULLIBLE on your forehead.
The font size keeps trying to get smaller. It does this all of the time. Notice how I\\\'m keeping the theme of time? I think I\\\'m witty. Maybe I\\\'m not. Most likely I am.
My dad is on the phone talking to my grandparents. It\\\'s almost Christmas. I think I know what I\\\'m getting. It might be a brand new digital camera!! But it might not.
My paragraphs are short. I should make them longer, but a paragraph is a cluster of sentences all focusing on the same topic. My brain jumps to so many different things so quickly that there are simply not enough sentences focusing around the same idea to make a paragraph. My brain, lets talk about that.
I tried to think but nothing happened. - Anonymous.
My brain is a nothing more then a cluster of random particles, randomly creating randomness. Did you understand that? Me neither. And yet I wrote it! That is the strangeness of my brain, the unique language in which it thinks, the odd things it does for no reason in particular.
I feel philosophical. Don\\\'t ask me how that happened. I\\\'m using google.com as a spell-check. I\\\'ll type a word into the search box, and if I spell it wrong it will say:
Did you mean: ?
This can be translated to:
Dummass!! You're spelling it wrong!!
Which is exactly what I would say.
My dad is talking about garbage. Literally, garbage. Trash, waste, icky stuff not needed. Conversations can and will take interesting turns in my family.
I just made another paragraph. The one above this was short. I already talked about this, so I\\\'ll move on.
Grapefruit! It popped into my mind so I googled it. I came up with 1, 100, 000 results. Wow. I looked up the definition of the word.
1) A large, roundish, yellow-skinned, edible citrus fruit having a juicy, acid pulp.
2) The tropical or semitropical tree, Citrus paradisi, yielding this fruit.
Now isn\\\'t that interesting? My dad is tired and my mom is cold. Not to mention I have to go. That almost rhymed!! Bye!! I shall write more soon. Fare thee well.
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