Dear Friends,
A few months ago I remember sitting slouched over my cell phone outside a friends house, puffing away on a cigarette and text messaging in a fancy one handed manner. I love text messaging and now I truly understood how RIM's amazing product has earned itself the nickname of "Crackberry". Every time I felt that I could have misplaced it or that some incredibly sneaky person decided to take it, I have a minor panic attack. That's IMPOSSIBLE however, because everywhere I go I cling to my purse as if it were life itself. Once when I was 14 I accidentally left it in a Mexican restaurant inside the Stratosphere in Las Vegas. It had my camera, wallet, cell phone, plane tickets home and pretty much anything of any importance. It was a huge cluster fuck trying to get it back but thankfully a bus boy decided to tuck it away behind a big cooler of some radioactive pink Mexican soft drink. Plus, I once dropped my bag in the ocean and that was pretty awful too. So now I can never be too careful with those kinds of things. But I digress.
My phone was chiming away on my lap, one after another after another. "Shit, I wish I was that popular" my best friend said with a smile. I remember when I used to be so social. I knew so many people in this damn town it was ridiculous, and yet I thrived on it. Every night I was out until 3am, stumbling up the stairs of my crappy apartment. My room mate had just moved out and though I lived alone, I never was. I spent so little time by myself and I think this was a huge problem. I knew that to develop into an adult in a healthy way, I'd need to learn to be happy without anyone else. Two days ago I went through my phone and deleted just about half the numbers out of my contact list. Early spring cleaning I suppose. I also quit smoking cigarettes at the beginning of the year and so far I've been doing pretty well with that. I replaced it with tea. I know it sounds bat shit insane, but it works for me. Whenever I crave a cigarette I just make myself a glass of tea. Now I'm bound to develop some sort of cancer related to downing 12 packets of fake sugar daily but hey, you've got to pick your poison, right?
Anyway, the point of this journal entry is not only to establish the fact that my old journal is kaput, but to let my true friends know that I am not ignoring them because of anything petty and it's probably safe to say that if you're reading this, you probably mean something to me (we should hope). But this journal isn't going to be all melodramatic (even though that goes against everything I believe in!) like my previous online blogs (BLOG may be my least favorite word) when I felt like I needed to use it as a tool to communicate with someone. But that didn't work, it never does. I've been writing like crazy and I need a place to start posting things I legitimately feel proud to post. Even though five people may ever read this, there is still something gratifying about starting fresh. As long as I keep stashing away money into my savings account, hopefully by next year my sister and I will be long gone.
Going back home to the east coast