Since I'm no good at keeping a diary, but great at writing on the Internet, I'm going to start. I saw my friend, Jujub, on her blog, and thought I'd try it.
He he, I'm the random thought type. :)
So, I pretty much have a ridiculously busy and stressful life. I mean, since I don't have time for art club, my therapy of sorts, I am reduced to complaining out my life online. I figured somebody might find this amusing.
I don't know where to start, so maybe I'll tell you about my family a little. My mom has full custody over me and my bratty sister, Maiah; she has been divorced, twice. She's currently dating two guys at once while dealing with my asshole ex-step dad. Whenever she gets stressed, she's prone to taking it out on Maiah and I. My sister is a jerk, no arguing there, and she likes to think she's right about everything. "Little Miss Self-Righteous" is what she should be named, not "good mother".
I've always got my Shadow though; my little half-blind toy poodle. He thinks he's my baby. I'm not kidding, he acts like I'm the one who gave birth to him! He's my biggest comfort, though. He's 13 years old, and he's black and turning silver.
I'm harder working than most people my age, which is 16; hence the title of my blog. I'm training to be an opera singer, and, trust me, it's not easy. Opera isn't the stupid nonsense media cracks it up to be; it's an art, and you have to work hard. I work harder than Taylor Swift ever did and ever will, and she's famous for nothing that special. I don't want fame; I want a career doing what I love.
My mom puts a lot of pressure on me, whether she realizes it or not, and I don't work well under huge amounts of stress. When I found our my average in University Chemistry was a C+, my single conclusion was, "My mom's gonna kill me."
So, I went home and had an anxiety attack. Mix that with asthma and anaphylaxis, and you'd almost think you were having a reaction. It was my very first one, and I'm 16. My hair is even starting to fall out, and I have trouble sleeping. I'm always tired, and my chest is always heavy. Feels like a bit of a problem. I used to handle it well when I could go to art club and paint, and laugh, and be myself, but it won't work anymore. My voice lessons now overlap art club, and I'm forced to give it up on Mondays to listen to a soft spoken Middle Eastern man, who I have trouble understanding through his accent, teach me my technical requirements for my Royal Conservatory of Music exams. Ha ha, if you heard him speak, I wouldn't sound racist.
Well, for a first post, it's kind of long. But, the again, I don't normally blog, or read them, so I wouldn't really know.
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