So this happened over the weekend. I raced from my mailbox with my small, official-looking envelope to my front door, screaming to my roommate, What does this package look like, huh? What does this look like to you?
I am a small child on Christmas morning. Aggressive. Wanton.
That analogy is unimaginative certainly, but rightfully overused perhaps, because can't you picture it?
Or maybe it's better to describe it as a long-awaited letter from a lover who is surely fond of me but hasn't said it yet and today is the day I find out what my future holds.
Yes, yes, maybe more like that -- I adore you, lover, and that means I will open up the world to you.
Let’s get intimate!
(He and I or she and I or the goddamn passport and I, but definitly You and I – as in, welcome to my first real blog post.)