  I'm writing an account of my life from when I left Oregon in March of 2003 until the present. I'm thinking I might actually write until I move to Jersey, then from Jersey write a New book. The first one is very long. The rough draft already has 60 pages and that's just the outline. I hope it doesn't drag. There is just so much explination into the head of a girl who doesn't want to settle down, but only wants to settle down in the future of life. I'm such a walking contradiction. I think that Jersey deserves it's own book. The people, sites, smells, feelings. I have to write about the 'live in'. How we met, and what he did to me at the begining of our relationship.
I have to write about Mr. Penelope. I have to see how this all turns out. It can't turn out boring that's for sure. Nothing in my life has been boring, except for the times I sit at home staring at the computer, just wanting to write. How can life be boring when there are so many colors. So many beautiful eyes to look into that have so many exciting stories to tell? 
