What's in a Blog?

Okay, I’ve already screwed this thing up. First of all, my teacher is a Ms. not a Mrs. and she did not like reading everyone refer to her as Bo-Bo. If we call her anything, she said, she'd rather it be Evelyn. Second of all, I was supposed to include some personal stuff about myself for the first entry, like where I live and who I live with and blah, blah, blah. Why? Who cares? Does it matter if I have air-conditioning or a little brother? Does it somehow affect my thoughts and dreams? And for the record, I have neither.

The whole point of blogging is the anonymity. I could be anyone. I could be rich, poor, skinny, fat, in Paris or Tampa, alone or not. I could be homeless. Or blind. Or a guy. It only matters what I have to say.

Do I have anything to say?

I don’t live in anyplace special. I have a regular room in a regular apartment in a regular town. I have one sister and zero parents. I have no pets, although I once brought a turtle home from kindergarten in my backpack and I put him in the fridge, thinking there would be plenty of food in there for him to eat and, well, I’m sure you can guess what happened. He fell into a bowl of strawberry-banana Jell-O my sister had made and drowned. Lesson learned, children: turtles should not be refrigerated.

Do I have anything to say?

I haven’t done anything special. I’ve lived fourteen years pretty unspectacularly. I never won a talent competition or tutored underprivileged children or donated a kidney. I rode my first bike without training wheels when I was five. I dove off the high board at the Y when I was eight. I got my period when I was twelve. That’s all pretty normal from what I know about normal people.

Do I have anything to say?

I haven’t been anywhere special.
I don’t know anything special.
I don’t own anything special.

Do I have anything to say?

I don’t know. Yet.

A Blog's Beginning

Mrs. Bo-Bo is making me do this. Us, actually, the whole Media Matters class, so it’s not like she’s picking on me. We have to keep a blog like it’s a diary. Bo-Bo said she used to have to keep journals for her classes when she was our age, which was like a hundred million years ago. So because this is Media Matters and we’re studying about Media (and why it Matters, which is completely not something that matters or Matters to me, but I didn’t get into Contemporary Media Studies, which is all about television and movies and the class I really wanted to take), we have to keep a blog. I guess that’s okay except anytime a teacher makes you do something cool, it immediately becomes uncool.

Bo-Bo’s real name is Beauchamps but everyone calls her Bo-Bo which is kind of silly and a little stupid. How hard is it to use someone’s real name? I take French so I know how to pronounce it. The second syllable is like “shahm.” You don’t pronounce the p or the s. Bo-shahm. See? Easy.

Shout out to JA.