Report Card

It has officially been a year since I started writing here. If you count the initial test message. It took me a couple of days to actually come up with something to say. But since that time, I have come to these pages and found a friend, in a way. The sort that would listen no matter how many times I seemed to be saying the same thing. A constant, transient friend who would be with me wherever the red lights were flashing. I have appreciated it. Being one who treasures archival, I am glad to have been able to keep track of the passage of things.

When I was a young girl in ponytails, my teachers would write home to my parents and tell them I was too eager and too talkative -- that I needed to give the other kids a chance to answer. It was a strange thing to teach. To tell someone to hide herself. To keep silent and mediocre in favor of socialization. I don't know that it was such a smart bargain. It didn't net me such a grand or vast catch of pals. There were still those whom I managed to intimidate or alienate. The ones who would roll their eyes at each other when I would use a big word. I always preferred the ones who cottoned to me in spite of myself. Those who were secure enough -- or perhaps insecure enough -- to be able to befriend in the absence of competition.

You grow into yourself. You get comfortable in your own skin. And then you quickly grow out of it. The trick is to be paying attention during that brief, brief stretch when it all feels right and you haven't a fear in the world. Sometimes, it comes more than once. But it's a good idea to try and catch it on the first go round.

Happy birthday, blog. I'm glad we made it.