Wow. Can’t believe I finally did it. My one and only, very first, hopefully not my last, inspirational, sensational, Mom’s gonna be so proud, blog. It’s 8:30 pm on Thursday, thirsty-Thursday that is, ha. Can’t help but laugh how old (and some may say boring) I’ve grown in the last couple of years. Twenty-five years old. And you may roll your eyes, but I am entirely serious when I say, “I feel old.” I think I may have to retire the mini skirt this summer, upgrade from my “Plush black” mascara to a more softer, do I dare say dark gray shade, and finally trade my wedges in for something, more– flat, appropriate and a shoe my Mom would just “ooh and aah” at. God. Keds here I come. The problem with getting older is I think more– Should I or Shouldn’t I; however, this cannot be said of me when I was nineteen. At nineteen I was fearless. It was an age of no reason and little hesitation. Nineteen was the age of stupid decisions and pushing my limits. I was a good kid– an extraordinarily didn’t-make-any-waves kid, the one who cried if someone looked at me the wrong way, the teacher’s pet, the sissy who cried over bruises and puppies in pet stores, and the kid who always listened to the rules, no matter what. My sisters, cousins, favorite aunts and uncles, best friends can all vouch for me– probably go into even more detail of the worry-wart antics of my youth. So you can image the shock (especially to my Mom) at nineteen, when this do-gooder, suddenly lost her common sense and lived fully for the moment, the adventure, and thrill, which don’t get me wrong isn’t a bad thing, but let’s be honest, it was not a good thing and out of character. It’s not like I got arrested or did anything I truly to this day regret– but I was more rebellious. Stayed out later. Had a fake-id (thanks to my “cool” older sister, Sarah). Partied more. I was invincible. I look back at nineteen with a smile and so incredibly thankful that it is over. Lived and learned.
May 1, 2008...1:10 am
And so it begins: Should I or Shouldn’t I?
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