Everyone keeps asking me how it feels to be 18....

It feels the same as 17.

And 16.

Fifteen was a better year. No knee issues (ugh, darn dogs!!).

Read More

Well, I can only begin this blog with a sigh. I am eighteen now, I am an adult. This is daunting. My birthday was yesterday (Feb six) for you Aussies, but for the U.S it is today (time applies to the blogs posting), which to you is the sixth of February. I don't know what to feel about it, it's actually got me feeling a little old and constrained. Well, guess that's just me. I'm not happy to be eighteen or anything, I'd much rather be time locked at seveteen. But oh well. Still had a good day,

Read More

Continued from part two.

Read More

So back in 1925, they weren't called 'blogs'. They were called 'essays'.

I’ve been reading essays lately.

I know my audience, believe it or not—I am aware that some of you sneak into my room in the wee hours of night to caress my sleeping angel face and read my diary. For the sake of everybody else in the house, though, I want to explain something: there are two Latin American authors I really, really like.

Read More