hey, you there..

I write in the second person too much.  Gross.  It's a bad habit.  I kind of go back and forth between the first and second person, and who the fuck would think that that isn't annoying?  I'll try to stick to the first person right now. I I I.  I.  Yes.  Okay.  I can do this, for sure. 

I think I like writing in second person because it feels more like I'm telling someone something [resist urge to add "you know what I mean?"].  I probably do it because I feel weird saying "I" so much.  As if anything I have to say is super important.  I'd like to think that I'm super deep and stuff, which also involves less use of "I". But honestly, I'm probably as introspective as some photography chick, the kind with arty photos and cool hair.  If I were speaking to someone right now, I would tell him or her that he or she knows the kind of person I am talking about. 

The thing is, I generally write how I speak, or as Cypress has said, "good, clean prose".  It's so clearly prose, nothing vaguely poetic or funky about it.  But because I write how I speak, and because I generally speak to people other than myself, I start to accidentally write to someone.  Not usually anyone in particular, but to the vague misty wall of You.  So.  Um.  I guess that's it.  Okay.    

struck by lightning

That's the literal translation of "love at first sight" in French.  I like when these things happen, things that translate into something completely different that captures the same idea so perfectly.  Not that I've ever experienced love at first sight or anything.  But don't we imagine it as something that is so instant and powerful that it causes you to feel as though you already know the person you've supposedly fallen in love with?  I'm not a romantic, and I don't really believe that it is love that happens at first sight, but it's nice to think about that.  It kind of goes along with the whole idea that we each have a soul mate, someone we were destined to be with since the day we were born.  Soul mate in French is literally soul sister.  Just saying.  


Things are going to start changing soon.  The thought has been buzzing behind my eyes for the past couple of weeks now, lurking behind the normal.  It's like Chronicle of a Death Foretold; I know that Santiago Nasar dies from the very beginning, but I don't know how or why, or what happens in between.

I am sunburned on only one of my shoulders, because I cut up my gay-straight alliance shirt to look cool.  There is a thin white line where my skin was protected by the strap of my bra, and all around it is red with freckles.  It doesn't look like my skin anymore, it looks older and a little leathery, and then I worry about skin cancer and what my skin will be like when I am old.