In the Byline

I have to admit, It's frustrating how little you give me to work with...just when I think I have a grip on your history, and quite a history it is, something reminds me that I barely know you. The more I find out, the less I know. The only person I've ever known like that is, well, me. I guess you've got quite a few more years to fill up with memories than I, and maybe I'm to blame for failing to ask questions I'm not sure I'd like the answers to. I suppose I feel that when you decide that your history, and relationships with other girls, past and current, are my business, then maybe I will have crossed a milestone or something. Until then, excuse me if I monopolize your present and future.

So, here I am, facing another semester. The proverbial phoenix rising from the ashes of the enormous, multifaceted smack-down that has made up the past few months of my life. I'll admit that I am a dreamer, and in each frequent change of course I make with my life, I begin to plan my future. Theoretically, it looks nice.

Dear Georgia, I don't understand your insistence on closing all package stores on Sundays. Don't you realize that there's going to be a snowstorm, and I will be unable to leave the warmth of my apartment, and would like to comfort myself with a glass or two of wine or even a Sam Adams. Blast, you confounded laws.

So January is a funny month for me. Being a June baby, the new year marks the second half of being whatever age I am. So 19, to be honest, I feel as though I've outgrown you. It may be silly but I want a lot of things in my 20's, and it would be nice to finally get there. PhD, marriage, first house, dog, maybe a baby...at this rate I need to meet the love of my life...tomorrow. Oh and traveling. In general seeing the world and living the life of a vagabond for a while. It would be nice to not do those things alone. With any luck I'll end up with someone whose as spontaneous and delightfully whimsical as I.