Marmalade and I just had a huge fight about whether or not the Doctor has a new TARDIS. It was one of those arguments where you're both completely sure that you're right and can't believe how unreasonable the other person is being. She kept saying 'Who told you that?' and I wasn't quite sure how to communicate the fact that no-one told me because I saw it for myself. In the end I found an article online which clearly says that he DOES have a new TARDIS.

 Anyway... I have three exams coming up and have started a new story about a freak show, and Elliot is going to be an archaeologist, actually.

 What a great thing to fight over, eh? Totally worth it.

The Easter egg hunt

 Hi peoples, I hope you are having a good Easter. I spent Easter organizing an egg hunt for people ranging in age between 1 and 12. The twelve-year-old had a blast, the eight-year-olds did very well, the 6-year-old didn't, the 2-year-old did, and the 1-year-old... well...

 It's probably just because I'm jinxed and anything I organise goes wrong. It was my job to look after the 1-year-old. He found two tennis balls, a football, a golf club, a bucket, and just about everything except an Easter egg. Well, I guess so long as he had fun, that was OK. And he got his chocolate in the end cause I found them all for him.

 That's another bit of Alimonsoon advice for you, I guess. Don't try geocaching in the dark, don't go on a penny trail, and don't make a 1-year-old do an Easter egg hunt.

Elliot, the 6-year-old scientist

I haven't posted on here in a while, but I'm under strict instructions from Taylor, so...

My little brother has decided to become an "animal scientist". (It's better than his last idea for a job which was miner, because he watched The Incredibles and wanted to drive a machine like the Underminer has at the end. We all assured him that these machines don't exist.)

 

 Anyway, we had roast chicken on Sunday so SP#2, who I think I shall nickname Elliot for this blog, asked to keep the skeleton in his room.

 He was greatly discouraged from this and found some other things to 'study'. He studied a snail, the dog, and our fish. And he was very happy when someone printed out some images of animal skeletons for him.

 (I'm hungry. I will listen to music to distract myself.)

 Thing is, Elliot doesn't really know what 'studying' means, so he just stares very hard at his subject, occasionally turning his head. I don't know if  he's just waiting for a scientific theory to form in his head or what, or what he's looking for, or what scientists actually do. Well, he's only six.

 I've got no idea what to nickname SP#1, but the news about her is that she's just won a music competition. That was on her recorder, not her trumpet (She came last when playing the trumpet). But anyway, she's chuffed about it.

 And Marmalade's flirting with a vampire.

 So, nothing interesting to report.

Sequels

 Yesterday, I wasted my first hour on Facebook. I now know that I'm a real teenager.

 Marmalade made green cupcakes.

 My little brother is busy destroying balloons from my little sister's birthday party.

 My mum started her new job today so she's even more stressed than usual.

 But this is what I really wanted to say: I have more story ideas than I have stories. I keep thinking of new characters, or concepts, and before I know it, all my stories have sequels... Most of them are originally meant to be one-offs, but the sequels are just too awesome to ignore! And then the first story gets forgotten because it seems boring compared to the sequel.

 Speaking of boring... I always talk about stories on this blog, don't I?

 Anyway, I've invented a sequel character who I like a lot. He's a teenage mad scientist. He lives in his workshop where he invents steam- and clockwork-powered stuff. He has a pet weasel. (Why not?) He often walks around with the weasel around his neck, like a living scarf. He likes to eat ice cream and his favourite place is Edinburgh. His social skills are truly terrible. He may be autistic, like my brother and I - he has some of the same problems. He also has a motorbike; a huge, loud one which he built himself. But he doesn't always use it. Sometimes when he goes off on the bizarre, secretive night-time missions which only he knows about, he travels over the rooftops. The unplanned sequel starts with him crashing through the main character's roof. (She lives in a tumbledown barn.)

 So, there's another character profile for you. Hope you like it.

My dog

 It's my dog's birthday today. We took him for a walk and made a cake, but dogs can't eat cake, so we ate it because we are so helpful and considerate. Also we got him a toy to shred, because he loves to shred things.

 Aren't dogs' lives uncomplicated? Eat, sleep, walk, shred things.

The mutant flower

 Guess what? The smallest sweet pea, the weird one, has stopped trying to grow sideways and has now grown two heads! Well, not heads, but you know what I mean. I always knew that one was an anomaly.

 My mum got the job. She starts the Monday after next.

 Marmalade's job interview went amazingly well. I did get a minute-by-minute description.

 I taught SP#1 to play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star on the keyboard. That's the first tune I ever learned, and now she plays it non-stop. . . sigh. . . I guess I should have anticipated that.

STRESS

 I have a new laptop.

 My grandparents are coming to stay in about fifteen minutes. They'll be here for the weekend. And so my mum has been stressing out about getting the house tidy - she has four kids, how tidy does she expect it to be? Right now she's stressing out about cooking 'cause my grandma's a vegetarian. And my brother is stressing her out more wanting to go on her computer.

 I've told you about how she stresses about the Small Peoples' School, and now she's been offered a part-time job there, so she can get paid for stressing out, so that's good.

 Speaking of part-time jobs, Marmalade's had an interview for one today, and when something stressful happens to her, she generally sits down and talks and talks and talks and talks talks and talks and talks and talks about every little detail of it. So I can expect a minute-by-minute description of the interview pretty soon.

 My sweet peas are doing very well, except the smallest one, which is trying to grow sideways.

Growing sweet peas

 I like growing sweet peas. I planted them a couple of weeks ago as seeds out of a packet, and put them in an 'incubator', which is under a lamp so they get lots of "sunlight". My mum's growing sunflower seedlings for the Small Peoples' school, so the incubator's always ready if I need it. I planted out four sweet peas yesterday, kneeling on the kitchen floor and spilling compost, and then two more today. One's still too small to plant.
 When people tell you that gardening is theraputic - well, they're right.

 Provided you don't have to actually do it outside. I'm growing mine on my windowsill.

I'm depressed again today, and I don't know what to do. I have to pretend to be doing homework all the time!

 And I'm running for the school council (my tutor nominated me) and I'm revising for tests again and I'm growing sweet peas. The last item is the only one I have no complaints about.

I have nothing at all to say about today.

Celebrations!

 You won't believe this, but I'm actually writing this on a laptop, with the laptop on my lap, and it hasn't crashed for at least three minutes.

 I've got The Fray in my headphones. Small Person #1 is screeching on her trumpet. Small Person #2 is looking at Lego on the internet. (He's a 6-year-old addict.) All back to normal.

 Tomorrow I'm going to London to see We Will Rock You. It's a school trip for people who are talented at music - I'm not talented but I do better than the other people in my class because I'm one of about three people who can actually be bothered to try. Taylor's the same (you should hear her trying to sing :D. No offence, Taylor) and she keeps asking me what I'm going to wear.

 So that's great cause I love London, but it means I have to finish my Geography essay today.

 

 

This is letting me post photos again so, in celebration, I shall give you this one of a sulking tortoise. I took it two or three years ago; it's quite funny.

 

 

 

 

 

My dad put the laptop together again, and it still doesn't work! It doesn't switch on at all. It's like he unplugged all the wires and then reconnected everything except the on button.

 I'm on my mum's computer again, this time doing a French assignment, but she's out taking Small Person #1 to Brownies.

 You know, Taylor read every single post of this blog last night. All of them. I mean, there are about fifty of them! And the first ones ever are really rubbish. Hey, Taylor, did you work out all the nicknames?

 I got my biology paper back today, and not only did I get an A*, I also got back my drawing of Hyacinth that I did on page 3.

 Last night Maramlade was drafting her CV and my mum said not to disturb her, so I sat doing my family tree with Marmalade occasionally bouncing ideas off me or asking a question about grammar and what she should wear to the job interview. See, I was being really helpful!

 I drew loads of my story characters today, and I'll scan them in if the laptop ever starts working again. My dad wants to buy me a new one, a small palm-top type thing so I can write stories, but my mum says it's "silly money".

 I'm really hungry. SP#2 has got her friend round so I decided to eat later cause I couldn't stand any of the friend's babbling conversation.

 And I have too much homework.

 I guess it's time to actually finish the French, not just pretend to.

Honey nut cornflakes

Taylor said she would read this tonight. Hi, Taylor, if you're out there.

I was depressed today - it all started with the honey nut cornflakes. It sounds kind of ridiculous, because it was. I'm slightly autistic and one of the things I do is that I have to have Wheatabix for breakfast. Because I have younger siblings there's usually some sort of sweet cereal - you know, Coco Pops, sugar puffs - which I have on top of my Wheatabix. Today, there was nothing but honey nut cornflakes. I hate honey nut cornflakes! Also, I'm allergic to nuts! So I had to resort to an old recipe of mine, which is Wheatabix, rice crispies, Shreddies and raisins. The taste isn't up to much and the texture is basically mush, but it's very good for you and it's OK if you have enough raisins. If nothing else, it's better than honey nut cornflakes.

 Then I got accused of stealing my sister's trousers, and why would I want trousers that are a foot too long for me? (She has long legs).

 Also the laptop broke so I couldn't blog, write stories, do my family tree, or anything. I'm doing this o my mum's computer which she let me use because my geography essay's due in four days and the laptop is actually spilling its intestines out on my dad's desk. (It's useful to have a techie in the family).

 Then in English the teacher announced a mistake I'd made in front of the whole class.

 Then in maths, I'd got an A on the last three papers and on this one I got a C. =(

 But it all started with the honey nut cornflakes.

 I hope I haven't wasted too much of your time with this entirely pointless post about breakfast cereal.

Penny trails in the dark

Don't go on a penny trail in the dark either. That's when you flip a coin at every junction to see whether you turn left or right. It sounds fun but it's very, very boring.

I've got another essay to write, for Geography this time. Tonight I'm going to Guides (I have a project to work on for my Baden Powell award at Guides). On Saturday I'm going to a maths masterclass at this posh girls' school. On Sunday Taylor's coming around - her mum expects a lot of her, and she got a bad mark in French recently and I got a good one so her mum's asking if I can "tutor" her in French. I've got some French vocabulary to learn as well, and a music piece, and a book to read for drama, and two drawings and three stories that need finishing.

 You don't think I've got quite a lot to do, do you?

 I had a Biology test today which I finished ten minutes early so I drew the face of a new character I have called Hyacinth. I hope we're allowed to take the tests home once they've been marked because I want that drawing back.

My sketchpad

I have a sketchbook for my school artwork, and I am currently designing the front cover for it. I'm covering it with characters from my stories! Ruby Tuesday is in the middle at the bottom, next to the ancient nine-year-old. I've also done a pair of buskers from LittleBrassTown and their very camp best friend, and Grey Owlwolf, and a guy from my Greek short story, and my six favourite characters from my main story, including Rho Rhénmi and her boyfriend and an athlete and an angel and a homeless guy and a guy who likes bubblegum, and above them there's a boy called Ashboy Riderman and above him there's a guy with one eye hanging upside-down from the top of the image, and two assassins.
:D
And I've still got several stories which I haven't included anyone from. I'll need to put in a few ninjas and ...

Ruby Tuesday

 Well, I'm glad you enjoyed my very descriptive and informative post about geocaching in the dark. If anyone asks, right now I'm writing an essay on Hitler, OK?

 I've just discovered the wonders of headphones. I can turn The Fray or the Rolling Stones right up in my ears while I'm writing and then be dead to the rest of the world. Get this: I can't even hear my sister playing her trumpet! And Marmalade tries to talk to me occasionally but gives up when I stare at the screen of my laptop for a while and then suddenly look up and go "What?"

 I think I will listen to Maroon 5 next. She Will Be Loved.

 At the moment I'm working on a story about people who can see ghosts and spirits. They're called Betweeners because they can talk to people on both sides of the "thin blue line". There's one who's been around for centuries, but his physical appearance is still a nine-year-old boy because it never occured to him that he should grow up. Like Peter Pan, I guess. He says time doesn't have to apply to you if you don't want it to; not if you're a Betweener.

 Yay - The Man Who Can't Be Moved, by The Script! One of my favourite songs ever.

 And there's a ghost of a cowboy called Arizona - he was a Betweener until he got shot, and now he hangs around this other Betweener to help her out, and because she's one of the only people who can still see and hear him. Her name is Ruby Tuesday. Guess where I got that name from? Like the girl in the song, she's free and changes every day, and Arizona follows her around and lives on top of her fridge, because he's a ghost so he can fly.

 Time, I think, for One Republic.

 So the ancient nine-year-old pays Ruby Tuesday a visit and takes her with him on one of the Betweener missions, which is basically carrying messages between the dead and the living (like mediums, except they actually can contact the spirit world, while mediums are normally just very good at making things up) but sometimes they have to solve a murder or sort out a will. While they're on the mission he teaches Ruby all his tricks of cheating time, and she finds out some things about his past...

 On to the Goo Goo Dolls.

 Well, I think that's enough. However long I put it off, that Hitler essay is still due in on Tuesday.

Adam

 I just realised that I said in a post a long time ago I said I'd tell you about a character from one of my mini-stories. I will tell you now.
 He's about 30 years old and his name is Adam - no-one knows if that's his first name, surname, real name, chosen name, etc - he's just Adam.
 He works for a branch of the military who deal with things which the public never find out about :). He used to be a pilot, and he was the best one they had - until he got shot down, and then he was blown up and smashed about and broke his spine and got paralysed. So now he's in a command position - because he used to be a reconnaissance officer he's very good at deciding what a situation needs. So he sits in the control hub of this secret military thing, in a wheelchair, yelling at people. He smokes cigars - at least he used to; now he can't move his hand to get the cigar to his mouth. A quote from him is "I only used to smoke them on special occasions, but I tell you, kid, it'll be a special occasion when I can move my hand enough to smoke one."
 He was one of my favourite characters. I didn't want him to just diasappear, like a lot of my other characters have over the years - so I stuck him in one of my other stories. Sure, I had to twist the plot round to fit him in, but I just love the image of him sitting there in his wheelchair yelling at people and wanting to have a cigar.

 He's based on someone famous, and there are a few massive clues as to who he's based on, so you might be able to guess.

Geocaching in the dark

Don't try geocaching in the dark.

Fun times

Hi! I'm putting off doing my geography homework. My little brother has one of his friends round, a little Indian boy with gappy teeth, and they're watching TV, and my brother is being too loud because of his autism, and my little sister is being stubborn and annoying, so my brother gets rude, and I'm trying to sort it out, and my siser won't listen to me... fun times.

My family history, revisited

I've traced my family history all the way back to Wales. It's really interesting. I'm 1.5% Irish, 0.8%Welsh, and also 1.5% American.

 I hardly do anything except my family history now. And sleep. And homework. And stories. And drawing. And - well, you get the idea. Small Person No#1 has stopped with her trumpet at last and is playing on her Game Boy, Small Person No#2 has just finished explaining his Lego set to me and also gave me a monologue about grenades (I already know about grenades, but he's autistic, it's what he does), my mum is organising her friend's birthday party and the fate of two foster children, my dad is trying to sell the computer game he made, and Marmalade has discovered a new computer game and is keeping up a constant stream of exclamations, such as 'Oh, I dropped my yeti!'

My dog is asleep.

I mentioned that my English teacher told us to keep a diary. A blog counts as a diary, doesn't it?

My day...

 After I went round on Saturday, Taylor's parents think I'm "shy". Hmm.

 I'm writing a story about two friends called Jessamy and Nadia, and Jessamy is quiet and very polite, while Nadia is more outgoing and bossy. I realised... Jessamy and Nadia are a bit like Taylor and me! To be honest I'm not much like Nadia but I am compared to Taylor. So today we went around calling each other Jessamy and Nadia, except she kept pronouncing my "name" wrong. I told her 'I'm your best friend, I think you should know by now that my name is Nadia', (the story characters are best friends, have known each other for centuries, etc, even though in real life Taylor and I have only been friends for a month) and a girl called April said 'Oh my god, is your real name Nadia?' and went around telling everyone that it was.

 Hmm.

 I'm also not happy because I burned my hand today and it suddenly started hurting in my Biology test, which was VERY DISTRACTING. I guessed some of the answers to the test. I did revise some of the things, but when have you ever had a test which is about the things you've actually revised? I normally rely on my uncanny memory in these situations.

 I don't know if you've ever watched Potter Puppet Pals, but it's basically puppet spin-offs of Harry Potter, as you may have guessed. I can quote basically all of them from memory, not because I've made an effort to memorise them, but because it just sort of sticks in my brain. It's annoying though because it makes everyone think that I'm sad enough to sit down and memorise them.

 Isn't it just typical that I can recite the sketch 'Neville's Birthday', but I can't remember what white blood cells produce?

 For the third time: Hmm.

Snow

Here's a tip: when it snows, don't walk behind an unpopular person. Everyone will throw snowballs at the unpopular person, and some people have really, really bad aim.

 I took the long way home so I could go through the park and see what the hill looked like. The poor hill. It's been sledged down to within an inch of its life. I didn't go sledging at the weekend: I went round my friend's house and we ate pringles and did each other's makeup. It's weird because neither my friend nor I are exactly normal teenage girls, however, when we're together, we can pretend we are. I've had all the lectures about not putting any personal details or real names on the internet, so for the purpose of this blog, my friend's name is going to be Taylor after a character in one of her stories. We have so much in common I often worry that I'm her clone. We both write stories and like fantasy, we both love Terry Pratchett (he's an author, if you don't know), we both love to draw, we both have self-esteem problems. She's so quiet she sometimes gets mistaken for part of the wallpaper, and I'm kind of socially awkward.

 Taylor (I'm going to have to remember to call her Taylor) wasn't in school today, so I read my book in he corner and let myself be ignored.

 Because of the snow, our school closed early on Friday and we skidded our way home. It also opened late this morning, so I woke up at normal school time, said 'Lol!', turned over and went back to sleep. Bliss!

 I've finished Heidi and now I'm reading Sherlock Holmes. I love Sherlock; he's so weird.

 Well, that's about everything I can think of.

 Here, why don't you watch the music video for Mr Brightside by The Killers? It's really cool. Also very weird, but it's my favourite song at the moment.

 Mr Brightside

Well, my Baden-Powell is showing signs of being about to happen sometime in the future, so that's a good thing. The Baden-Powell award is the highest award you can get in Girl Guides, but it requires a lot of planning.

 I have thought of ANOTHER idea for a story, because this is what my brain does. I tell it not to and it does. The thing I'm not good at is the plots, which sounds really stupid and I guess it is. I love developing my characters and thinking of scenes I can include, but it has to have a plot, doesn't it, not just a load of scenes strung together? It takes me ages to think of a good plot. I mean literally, it takes me years, but that's probably a good thing as I spend ages refining it so it must be OK in the end, right? When I was eleven or something I thought up plots left, right and centre, and when I remember some of them I go 'Oh no, that's irrational, that's boring, that's impossible, that's rubbish' etc. Now I just get ideas.

 I have a new character for one of my old stories, too. Her name is Rho Rhenmi and she lives in a desert tribe, but it's a very hi-tech desert tribe and Rho has a double-barrelled laser blaster. It' a security thing. She feels insecure if she doesn't have her double-barrelled laser blaster.

 The program still won't let me upload any photos.

 Hey, at school we're studying the Diary of Anne Frank and our English teacher told us to start a diary so we can sympathise with Anne. She's not to know that I've been writing a diary since I was seven. My first ever diary entry is about a game I played with my friend when she came round my house. I say "friend" but I was a messed-up child and had no idea how to have friends.

 Yesterday I had an idea and started a list of random ideas for stories. I told you earlier that I have lots of ideas but I forget them frequently, so I am writing them all down and it's pretty fun actually. It's also good that I won't forget any of them so I can go through and see which ones I can use and which I can't, rather than trying to do it all in my head.
 Here's another thing: The weird thing about me and plots is my daydreams: my daydreams are not absent-minded mental ramblings but strictly structured and THEY ALWAYS HAVE PLOTS. How come I can think of a plot for a daydream in a matter of seconds? They're not really daydreams, I suppose, just mini stories.

 I want to tell you about this character who pops up in my mini stories quite a lot, but I've written loads of random stuff already, so I bid you farewell.

I failed to meet my target. I did not get more pageviews in December than I did in November, so November is still my record and I'll have to try and beat it again.

 I enjoyed 2012. It was a good year, and I was 13 - I liked being 13. It was great until Christmas - it was a bit of an empty Christmas, and it's over already. (Yes, I know it was Christmas two weeks ago - I still haven't caught up yet.) I'm wondering if this will be an empty year.

 Sorry! Feeling depressed again today! I'll listen to Mr Brightside by The Killers and see if that helps.

I'd give you another picture of an animal but the program won't let me.