Thursday, December 15, 2011

Today I am 23.

Which isn't any kind of milestone. And please don't remind me about that one Blink 182 song.

In the past 23 years, I've written countless poems and published some, written a ton of stories, but published none of them. And I've written a bunch of other things. Blog posts, letters, birthday cards for my pets. I've edited two school-sponsored art & literary magazines and then had this (poorly developed) idea to make my own zine. It'll get better someday.

I had something like a 20% chance of survival at birth due to my failure to adjust to the idea of breathing outside of the womb. But then I conquered that obstacle and screamed for three months (sorry about that whole colic thing, Mom & Dad), thereby developing one hell of a set of lungs. I've since used those to grow into a singer who has danced onstage in horrible shiny pants. And then later I became a loudmouth feminist. I wonder what's next.

I've read a lot of books. And I think I wrote a novel when I was fifteen because accidentally, out of nowhere I realized I'd created a 237-page Word document-- a story that went on way longer than I had intended it to.

I had knee-length hair as a child because my mom couldn't bear to part with my baby curls. So I've gotten my hair stuck in an escalator and also pooped on it. And then I wrote slam poems about those things and performed them at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island and won a swanky trophy.

I've lived in the suburbs and also in a cornfield, but that's really it. I like to make birthday cakes out of healthy foods.

I am kind of a square, mainly because I'm the only person of my generation who uses the word "square."

I've seen Chantal Kreviazuk in concert three times. I also met her and was a little bit bummed out when she spelled my name incorrectly.

I floss compulsively but still get reprimanded every time I go to the dentist. I'm convinced that dentists are just used to reprimanding everyone for not flossing enough.

I've developed some really embarrassing celebrity crushes and some not-so-embarrassing ones. My most recent one is of the latter variety, so I'll spill: Emmastoneemmastoneemmastone!

I've skinny dipped at 4 a.m. in Higgins Lake and napped in the sunshine. I've had way too many dreams about having sex with people I really shouldn't ever even think about have sex with.

I've mastered the art of fighting with soccer moms in SUVs over parking spots outside of the elementary school at dismissal time. Because I babysit a lot.

And yet I've never had kids and can't ever picture myself having any.

I named my uterus Maude. I like to tweet about it.

I've flown to Colorado on Christmas Eve. And have had pizza and vodka for breakfast on Christmas morning. We mixed the vodka with Powerade because that's all we could find at the gas station, which was the only place open on Christmas morning.

I think Karen Carpenter's voice is totally gorgeous, even if no one my age even knows who Karen Carpenter was.

I got in big, big trouble with my mom one time because I decided to stop at the candy store on my way home from school one day in the second grade.

I've injured my sister badly enough to have her sent off in an ambulance... not just once, but twice.

I've developed and maintained a pretty impressive coffee addiction. And memorized a lot of random facts and dates and numbers. I'm fairly certain I know the birthdays of just about everyone I've ever met.

At sixteen I attended a summer writing seminar because I'm a nerd and it completely changed my life. And then I went back every summer for years.

I wish I could do that with everything I love. But I hear that living in the past is unhealthy.

So, I'm off to be 23-- which, for the immediate moment, means babysitting and getting some last-minute studying in for an exam I've got tomorrow morning. And also eating cake. And telling my cat that I love him even though he's asleep and can't hear me and doesn't even speak English anyway.

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