I set out in a predictable way, I suppose. One foot in front of the other was fine until I hit the lake, and I didn't intend to go out with a splash. No, that was the girl who showed up to graduation with veins flowing Absolut like the Alaskan Pipeline (and the guy in the back of the class wearing the varsity jacket will soon ask, "Huh? I thought that was for oil, not vodka?"). But I never carried those stereotypes around with me, only Emerson, Dickens, and Lemony Snicket (we all need a break now and then). This series of unfortunate events, which one might refer to as high school, is now in the past and I'm moving on. It never takes long to find a boat, and soon that lake is behind me too. Back to the Winter Warlock march. It's a long 4,000 miles to the Final Frontier (4167 actually, but who's counting?) and I can't help but feel awe at the vastness of each step I take. One moment I'm stocking eggs at the local SuperValue while studying for the big test in the morning - just enough to get by - the next I'm snatching my diploma at a dead sprint on my way out of town. At least the satellites understand. My haste may be the cause of some confusion; it was a decent town, a decent house, a decent life, but it was only decent. It wasn't home. Exceptional is something you have to catch on an old, beat-up fly rod. Once it's on the hook you have to fight for it, and fight hard, or it will escape and you'll be left ordering take-out for dinner. Well, I only have one fly left and I'm not settling for Chinese. I'll see you soon, Alaska.
I found this awesome... keep writing, you have amazing stuff inside you. My favorite part at the end there: Exceptional is something you have to catch on an old, beat-up fly rod. Once it's on the hook you have to fight for it, and fight hard, or it will escape and you'll be left ordering take-out for dinner.
