Birthday blog

Happy Birthday, me.
Why thank you, I.

Thoughts on being nineteen.
I always thought that nineteen was sort of a pointless year: at eighteen you can vote and smoke, at twenty you have begun a new decade. Nineteen just seemed stuck in the middle; just a year you had to get through to reach your twenties. But having reached nineteen, I find myself very gratefull for the cushion it provides. I am way too young to be in my twenties. Contemplating it gives me feelings akin to vertigo. Not the cool U2 kind, the Hans Christian Andersen creepy evil Vertigo kind.
That sentence will make no sense for those of you who never read fairy tales as a kid.
But anyway...thank you, nineteen. You have given me a break I didn't know I needed.

Never ever research any historical figure of whom you are particularly fond if you wish to remain that way. Nor should you ever read the introductions to volumes of poetry. Scholars have a way of destroying illusions.

Is it okay to wish upon a star on a cloudy night?

I think I might exhibit some tendencies of schitzophrenia.