Hello World. It's, uh, Me.

At 25, this is not where I thought I would be.
Where I thought I'd be: living in a tastefully decorated apartment, probably somewhere central to all the happening happenings where the hip people just gravitated, you know, like a town that has a Target or something. Or a Barnes and Noble. Something. In the state of Twenty-Five, I would maybe--no, almost surely--be married and my husband and I would be listening to music on our state of the art entertainment system and reading our subscription to The Believer when we weren't having impossibly fun cocktail parties. Oh yeah, and we could afford all this because I would have a degree, a college one, since when you have a College Degree the government mails you big checks every month just because.

Where I am: Living back at home with my recently divorced mother and her cat, still a semester away from graduating. My diet consists of Life cereal and macaroni and cheese shaped like Scooby Doo, and I don't even have the ingredients necessary to make a screwdriver.

What this has done to my self-esteem: If I were a middle aged man, I would have pierced my ear, dyed my hair, and traded my Camry in for a gently-used Mustang.

What I want to accomplish here, really, is to write and practice writing, and for people to enjoy it.
Hi Edmund.