Plea

Last night, just before one, I woke up to find a drunk guy peeing in my room. I'm not angry about that, but this morning I am furious. I am furious because of what mother has done, and because she wields ultimate power, she sees need to use it to interfere with things I enjoy doing. After these past weeks of hard work, during which I did not update for lack of time to do anything other than work, mother has seen fit to enforce a little agreement we have. I had agreed to do this blog if I could update with one big post every Wednesday and Sunday, and she agreed to let me do that if I did so regularly. If I did not, she would make me switch to a single line every day. Here's the problem. If I do switch to a single line every day, I won't update. It will not work. Because I do things during the day. Because I have work and a million other things to do every day, and if blogging becomes something as simple and inane as a single line every day, I won't do it. It will slip my mind and it won't get done. You see, here's the thing that mother simply does not seem to get. I enjoy blogging. I enjoy the sound of my own voice and I enjoy writing about myself, but I also writing something useful to inform her of what's going on. Yes. A single entry every day, assuming I actually do it, will give you an idea of what I am doing and what is happening in my life. But do you really think that this blog would be so much better if I simply wrote:

Some guy pissed in my room.

I am writing this as a plea. I am willing to beg. Please do not make me write a single thing each day. This should not be a chore, I enjoy it immensely. Please do not make it one. I will not be able to do it if you make it a chore. I'll stop, you'll get angry, and you'll stop paying for my college. Please do not make me do that. Please.