2011

I am your everyday nine-to-fiver, four years into a relationship living in a house owned by a 101 year old man, drinking wine, eating kimchi, loving and hating my job, searching still for the other half of that glass of milk, reading over some of these old entries, marveling at my ability to remember my old password, finding my brain in sometimes badly written form and still wondering whether my drunken revelation of this blog to my boyfriend has led to its discovery.

Where do these years go? What do they do when they are resigned to sometimes forgotten or diminished memories? Do they look at you and wonder why you have chosen to forget or amend them?

Crazy.