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This morning started as any other morning. Cursing at the sunlight, touching my toes, jumping on the scale, trying to remember where I left the television remote control the night before. I quickly showered and sped away from home to the doctor's office for my annual smearing of the pap. My doctor, who, after asking my age, informed me we were the same age, inquired about what I did this weekend. "Got drunk off my ass," was my plain-as-day response. She said she wanted to hear no more. We went through my family history and I asked her how much I weighed at last years appointment. Terrifically happy news to hear it is an official 30 pounds lighter (that's a toddler, or thirty pound cakes, however you look at.) I redressd, got a lollipop and turned my shit car to the mall, Barnes and Noble, in particular. After studying the Journal wall for sometime, I picked a leather bound lined journal with two small snaps to close and a place for my pen. Wonderful. Goal for thirty- Keep a journal, everyday, no matter what. So maybe I won't blah-blog so much, maybe I will more, I don't know. I am eager to write again, I had given it up for so long, tired of listening to myself. I am eager to write about my dreams, fears, longings, disappointments, desires, secrets, and the ever present, what-the-f*cks?. I am eager to remember I'm pretty much just like everyone else, slightly tweaked to be Karen