A DOSE OF REALITY TO GO, PLEASE

To start off, I will weep and mourn inconsolably for the inavailabality of an H&M around here. It's a conspiracy that started in the eighth-grade, when I unknowingly flipped a Colleges in the Eastern United States: What You Need to Know Because You'll Never Get There book to New York University. Since then, my heart goes out to NYC. I believe that Fate is trying to get me to move out there. I'm listening ... I'm also still waiting for that blind octogenarian... But it's perfect, you see. I listen to art-house school-rock (or is that the other way around) music such as the French Kicks and Interpol. I love eclectic, funky things and find beauty in everything, such as a ball of yarn. I embrace dirt dust and grime, drag queens and a Chinese noodle place around every corner. Clearly, I belong to the streets of Manhattan.

Secondly, I shall rejoice the coming of my twenty-first birthday. That's this Thursday for the mofos who don't know. Shit, man. That's freaking old, isn't it? My three-year-old cousin replied, when asked how old she thought I was, "Twelve". When I corrected her, she had this look on her face like "Oh my, you're over the hill now, aren't you?" My aunt didn't make it any better: "When I was twenty-one, I was on my way to America to start a new life!" That's great. Let's work on renewing my driver's license first before I get my hands on a visa to Luxembourg.

And lastly, I will survive. Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll be alive. Oh yeah.