normally on my birthday, I write a letter to myself to be opened 10 years later....I store it in a hat box until it it time.
However, in 10 years (which no longer seems such a phenomally long time) i will be 41. That idea depresses me. So instead, I decided to blog today.
But i have nothing really to say. 31 is going to be my best year ever. I am committed to being single and really enjoying myself. I am going to travel and love and be. I am doing great and loving life and loving myself.
Everything is peachy-keen, jelly bean! I am going to work on the great american novel this summer. I hope to be published soon.
Happy birthday to me! xoxoxox
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