Twenty Years Ago.

On your left, a 4-year-old me, doing a reasonable imitiation of a pirate. On your right, a nearly two-year-old Jessica, already making fun of me. We're a team.

It's weird to think that this was 20 years ago. That is a significant stretch of time. Weirder still how precocious little kids, brushing their teeth for the camera, grow up to be software engineers and physical anthropologists. That's right: an EXCLUSIVE to inquiring minds: my sister is going to study bones for a living (which means grad school in a year or two). She'll probably get to work on the Iceman or dig in exotic locations. Sounds cool, if you ask me. It also gives one hope for the future. if you changed in 20 years from someone who had trouble even on training wheels to a fully functioning member of society, imagine what else you could do in the next 20. Or, with the right foundation, even 5 or 10. But after college, you need a path. And right now, my path is "status quo; don't fuck up," and it's starting to get itchy.

Man, I gotta make some lists of stuff I want to do. Gotta get me some direction. Some ambition. Gotta get some... ooh, Oreos. Sweet. Mission accomplished for the night.

SCENES FROM THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE WEBLOG:
Ian unlocked the door, and walked briskly into the apartment. Stephane quickly raised his eyes from his Asterix slash fiction, hidden within a week-old issue of Le Monde. He did not suspect a thing, he thought, completely in English.

Why would I rag on his slash fiction when he's got Silverchair bootlegs, thought the American, completely in French.

On the street, a man put out a cigarette. It did not feel a thing.