Growing Up and Concrete Houses.

Happy Leap Day and the next time I say those words, I'll be twenty. 

And this leads into today's topic. 

I'm terrified to grow up. But who isn't, right? I'm sixteen but I still have so much life left ahead of me, no matter how old I may feel. I hate it when eleven-year-old girls try to act like they're older than they are because being a teenager isn't all fun it's actually quite annoying please stay young. 

Please stay young. 

I get so stressed out over these things. This time next year I may be applying to/visiting colleges, prepping for the SATs, I'll be a Junior, and holy cow I'm almost half-way done with high school. 

Why did I grow. Today I was driving with my dad and we had a discussion about relativism and the arts and other big words ("art" is a small word but shhh) while ten years ago, we would have been discussing why the cat in the hat comes back (I know, the big questions of the universe). 


And I was going to sign off with that, but I just remembered that I actually did something today that I was relatively proud of. 
My History teacher always gives us extra credit on our tests if we draw a picture or write a poem about something on the test. So today the extra credit theme was Eddison's idea for concrete houses. And I wrote a little poem because I just can't draw a concrete house... 

A concrete house would be good
For it would not burn like wood.
But be made of concrete, houses never should
It'd be the ugliest thing in the neighborhood. 

I know, I know. I'm just drowning in extra credit points. 
But seriously, I was pretty happy, considering I made it up on the spot. And because it's a poem about concrete houses....
No one should ever write poems about houses, unless it's like an awesome beach house. And even then, don't make the house the focal point of the poem. 
Words of wisdom for the day.