To myself

If I could write a letter at the age of 5 to myself and stash it away for a decade or two, the essence of innocence could be defined in a paragraph of misspelled words for my future self. Since I never had the opportunity to do this, I will do it now as a somewhat twenty year 5 year old. Treasure your parents together, with each other. Enjoy every moment of this disaster because it will not last forever. Let time pass slowly, do not rush to be a teenager or an "adult" whatever that even means, I know "adults" that cannot even define that for me. Enjoy the kids next door, who will be your forever friends and will be there for you through the horrible and the happy. Enjoy the little things. The little things like the musty smell in your sea of toys in the cement basement and the smell of laundry detergent. Walk around your yellow room.

How can I remember all these weird details? I crave details I love them. I remember the unfinished sliding glass doors in mom and dads room and exactly where my mom had her computer desk set up. I remember the chew marks on the bottom of the kitchen table, where our lab Mocha chewed her way through. I can remember the way the couches were placed and where the barbecue was outside. Childhood is a funny thing when you think about it in a bundle of small minor details. These minor details are not so minor in the scale of a childs mind, easy to remember because it was the start of everything.

Readers beware

Hi. I guess that's an easy and painless way to begin this journey I am so unsure of. Why am I writing this anyway? I am no journalist wanna-be 19 year old girl going to some fancy institute in the great big city who probably deserves to create a blog more than this, yes 19 year old girl going to a run of the mill college because I was afraid to go away kind of thing. It is more than likely that this will not be a life changing novelty experience for anyone of its readers but more of an express my feelings therapy session if you will. Truthfully, I could not describe to you who I am in less than a 500 word essay because I do not know. I don't take compliments very well and I probably couldn't even tell you my favorite color (secret: I like them all). So readers beware, maybe this journey is probably better left unsaid or should I say, unread, but here goes nothin'.