Hey, girls, how you lookin'?

Soo good!
Really I do. I'm officially 17 now! rahrahrah. My brithday was nice...I have long since given up on the idea of being 'queen for a day,' since every birthday seems more insignificant than the last. I'm not trying to be depressing, because my birthday was great at school, but at home, it was a non-event almost. I used to wonder how in the world birthdays became no longer special to old people, and how they could stand not having a party. Now I realize that life just gets in the way. Everyday Life swells like The Blob as you get older, feeding itself on tasties like Responsibility and Work and Errands, until it is so big that nothing can squeeze in around it, even a birthday.
My birthday present: Luggage.
Eee Gads, Pop! LUGGAGE! swell! You shouldn't have!

The grown-up side of me reminds the rest of me that I really do need luggage, for I can hardly make a good impression on Wellesley next weekend if I show up with my stuff in a paper bag...admissions might be need-blind, but not I-Am-Bag-Lady-Blind.

I will have to buy myself a birthday present that is frivolous, immature, and altogether delightful. Like a tiara!

But this I vow: EVEN when I am 30, 42, 56, or 99, I will deflate the blob for a day and shout HOORAY!
HUZZAH!
HAPPY HAPPY BECAUSE I WAS BORN!!!