goodnight trouble

Well, here I am on the verge of eighteen.  Tomorrow I may rejoice in my new ability to check DVDs out from the library. Well, after tomorrow, really, because tomorrow I have sort of accidentally got my wish, and am going to run around Pittsburgh all afternoon with Victoria and Hannah. I have cleaned my room, made buttermilk biscuits for breakfast, set out clothing and boots, gotten Mum to purchase bacon and sausage and Andes-mint ice cream and fixings for Hungarian goulash (what we make doesn't really look like any of the photographs; it's savoury, not much sauce, over egg noodles), organised some ceremonial playlists on my iPod. And I'm ready to be eighteen. Nearly. I think I've been sort of dreading it, because it's another year without a lot to show for it, and the days are going by so fast, and eighteen is just another tick of the clock advancing the day when I've got to be a grown-up.

Well, there are perks that go with that.

Mostly what I want out of this year is to be alive, to taste everything; but I also want to be better, to try harder, to love. I want to carve out my own place in the world and walk more easily in my own skin.