"Yes, I'm blogging about how I won't pay you."

* * *

So, my brother (who works at Best Buy and right now has more money than all my family members combined) wants to buy Rock Band but insists that I pay $50. We've argued about this for the past 24 hours.

"I don't have any money Gregory. You get paid every day." "Save up. Take a loan from dad. You're paying."
"But -- you want it just as bad as I do! You'll buy it even if I don't pay up, I know you will."
"No! --- well, yes, I'll buy it, but I won't let you play it!" "I'll just play it when you're gone."
"No, cause I'll carry the disk around with me in my back pocket!" "Yeah. Right." The verdict of this situation (a common type between me and my brother) has yet to be reached.

(This very moment he is standing over my shoulder saying, "You WILL pay me.")

my own little world

When I moved into my new bedroom 7 years ago, it was pink, empty, and big. The bigness has stayed the same. But the pinkness and emptiness is totally gone. We painted my room green about 3 years ago, though looking at couple of places in my room it's hard to tell that, since you can't really see the wall let alone it's color. I like pictures. No, I love pictures. And there's nothing I love more than surrounding myself with pictures and stories and other worlds and places and anything that inspires me. So touring my room, taking a peek at walls plastered with colors and cultures and countries, digging through boxes brimming with exciting book titles and full sketchbooks, sitting at my desk and looking around at all the half-filled notebooks containing story ideas and random song lyrics, know that you're pretty much looking at
Sophia Grace Logan.



I love my room, and have no limits in using it to express myself completely.