The Eratic Thoughts of a Writer Suffering from Acute Writer's Block

Never think you know me,
I hardly know myself.
Never underestimate me,
Get down from your shelf.
Never overestimate me,
Because I don't live up to expectations.
I am God's greatest error,
Yet his most brilliant creation.
- Anon.

That's not true - this poem wasn't written by 'Anon' - it was written by me. But by crediting it to 'Anon' people will instantly think better of it.

Because in this stupid world talent, credibility and prowess is based on how much you earn, what you look like, what you wear, how old you are, where you come from and who you know - not who you *are*.

Think about it - if that poem had been writen by Austen, or Shakespear or Rowling or Stephenie Meyer, there would be lots of hoo-ha about it. People would squabble over it on e-bay; anyone who had a copy would become an instant celebrity.

But it was written by me. An Asian-Australian thirteen year old. There won't be any hoo-ha about it. I'll be lucky to get a dollar for it on e-bay - and that person would probably just feel sympathetic. If I post it on Quizilla, it will be one of the millions written by what people assume to be wannabe-writers. I'm not a wannabe yet - I'm a *gonna*be.

I am the kind of person who will touch a surface that has one of those 'Caution - Hot' signs on it just to see if it really is hot, or paint my nails with lipgloss to see what happens.

I am a wild child right to the core.

On the surface, it's definitely grungy. I've forgoed the hairspray and opted for hair gel to give an uneven, messy, I've-just-gotten-outta-bed-and-can't-find-my-hairbrush sort of look, then I've pulled it back in a messy knot. Not to be outdone, I've used my fingers to lightly claw at my hair so that it doesn't look the least bit elegant.

My vest, which is a formal charcoal fully-lined affair, clashes magnificently with my casual coral ribbed tee and tiny dark denim shorts, but it still matches, somehow. My shoes are my silver party shoes I normally wear with floaty dresses and cute camis, giving the 'I don't care' sort of look. I'm not wearing any makeup except for a bit if lipgloss, and the girly clashes with the grungy in a very rebellious sort of way.

And tomorrow I'll probably wear a floral blouse and nice pants, and actually bother to hairspray my hair instead of scruching the bejesus out of it with gel. I might actually bother to put some make up on, too. Then again, I might not.

My personality is very much the same as well - I can be dark and moody one day, wild and rebellious the next and sweet and petite the day after that.

I am unpredictable. *I* can't even predict what I will do next.