Biography...

     This a biography about some french guy named Auguste Renoir. He was born Febuary 25, 1841 in Limoges, France to a poor talyor, who had five sons.
     He and his family moved to paris when he was four years old. At the age of thirteen he was sent to work as an apprentice to work at a porcelain factory. His job was while he was there was to decorate china. It was then that his life's path was clear, he wanted to become a full-fledged artist.
     Eventually, he was able to join Ecole des Beaux, school of art.
     He became a famous painter, printmaker, and sculptor. He was one of the people who stated Impressionism. His paintings of women and landscapes were characterized by his use of vibrant colors.
     In 1903 he developed a crippling arthritis. As his arthritis became worse, he began to tie his paintbrush to his hand so that he could still paint.
     His family made Renoir happy. His wife, who was younger than him, bore him three children. She was a dressmaker, and would pose to help him with his paintings. His son, Jean, became a famous film maker.
     In 1919 he caught pneumonia, which caused him to have a heart attack and killed him on December 3, 1919. People remember him as "The Happy Painter."

STORY TIME!!!

     Once upon a time, a little ball rolled down a hill. It was around the size of an acorn, and a dark purple color. The ball got stuck on a stick, that refused to move. The ball politely asked the stick to move... When the stick didn't move, the ball asked again.
     After a few more tries the ball started to get angry. The stick just sat there ignoring the ball.
     The ball was tired of the stick, so he pulled out a gun and shot it several times. The stick was gone and there was just sawdust.
     The ball continued rolling down the hill, whistling Marry Had a Little Lamb. After a moment or two of rolling down the hill, he felt a sharp pain in the back in his head, and everything went black.
     When he woke up he looked around the room and finally realized that it was pitch black, but then he realized that he was wearing a blindfold. Somebody yanked it off, and the ball found himself looking at a duck with a cigarette sticking out of his mouth.
     The duck smacked him, and walked away to grab a bat. The ball saw that and looked down at the ropes holding him, glanced at the open window, and had already formulated a plan.
     The ball slipped out of the ropes, thinking about how stupid they were for holding him in ropes, he was a ball after all. Then he rolled off the chair and bounced out the window, good that he was a bouncy ball.
     He heard the duck's angry quacks behind him growing quieter and quieter. The ball looked back, and that was his one mistake. He fell into a fire and died.

THE END

Re: Is Blogging Journalism?

     I agree with the article. It makes some really good points like using the quote by Charles Darwin's quote "It is no the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change."
     Another good point was saying that blogging isn't journalism, but it affects the way that it's done.

First Blog?

     This is for school, I need three paragraphs. This first paragraph is about needing tree paragraphs. Sarcasm for the win! =)
     Ummm.... I finnished a book series that I've been reading for awhile. The Chronicles of Vladimir Todd I started reading them earlier this year, and wasn't able to read the last one for a few months. It was  AMAZING....
     This is my third paragraph. It is about my third paragraph. It is short. It is simple. BYE!