January 1st, 2007

Coffee Squirrel

Bring it, 2007! I'm in my Prime...

I am ready. Really, I am. It doesn't matter if a few days from now -- or even tomorrow -- that I doubt again. As long as I keep coming back to reality of that statement: I'm ready.

Let's go through a list of happenings during years that my age was a prime number:

At 3 we moved to a house. I didn't have to sleep in the same bed as my sister and brother in an apartment above my grandparents. I remember some of that time.

At 5...Who remembers five? Bits and pieces. I'm sure it was cool.

At 7, I was nearly raped.

At 11, I had my last 'real' birthday party. The rest were flops or I didn't bother.

At 13 I had my first period.

At 17 I had my first kiss. Yeah, it was a very good year.

At 19 I was on Prozac. I got drunk for the first time. I froze when faced with an opportunity to grasp a dream. I talked myself out of earning money for a year out of the country.

At 23 I had sex. He was a psychotic alcholic. Yay, me! Continuing the long, rich legacy of women who hunt down and bag men who don't care. I also smoked marijuana for the first time. Ha. I just thought of that! 23.

At age 25 I got my tattoo and I got my breasts reduced.

At age 27, I found Eric again, a psychotic alcoholic who =does= care. Yay, booze!

At 29 I made plans to get to Europe before I turned 30. And I did.

I'm going to be 37. It's gonna be good, no matter how rough the start. Even if it's bad, it'll be good!

I cannot wait. I hate Giftmas, but New Year's Day always gets me hopeful. Maybe it's the gunfire and mayhem or the blatant lies and hypocricy. Who knows where it comes from, but there it is: hope. Then those same hopes get all dashed against the rocks and it's all horrible for a few months and I survive. Every time! How cool is that? Later for you, '06. 2007, welcome. Welcome to my home.
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    Deepok Chopra tape. Eric's listening. I know, I know: cheesy
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