and so it begins.

In no order, organization, reasonable train of thought or purpose I will write.

Hang on.

If perhaps you lose grasp of what you're reading and fly off into space, not understanding what just happened...

Sorry?

I'm not going to promise something I can't deliver.

You could wear gloves, that might help.

Let's get started.

Today, I wrote on my arm. Why? Because I was texting Jessa and decided it would be creative. And also because I can. Growing up, I'd get in trouble for writing on my arm, and I spent much of both middle and high school not allowed to touch permanent markers.

It wasn't anything artistic or incredible looking...I just wrote. It felt strangely liberating. Like I'd finally taken that final step into adulthood.

Or something.

Tentacles of childhood worm their way into the lives of adults in surprising ways, sticking with them for years and years.

Like my favorite cookie is still Circus Animals.

After almost twenty-two years, still can't get enough of them - they are a delicacy to me like live eel is to people in a country that doesn't use English characters to write (formerly known as "Cleveland, Ohio."

There are rare occasions when a rebellion of some kind results in a positive tagline for society...namely, that the proponent realizes it was pretty dumb to begin with, and the deed is entirely de-romanticized. That happened for me today.

Today I wrote on my arm because I thought it would be kind of cool.

Which is not what it ended up being.

Lame sauce.