I've been thinking a lot about my twenties, and how I imagined them as a pre-teen. As a twelve year old on the brink of puberty, you start to think ahead to when that awful, awful period will be over--and look forward to adulthood. It's like when you're six, you look at the eighth graders, and you wonder how you'll ever get that big.

When I was thirteen, I saw me at a college back east, with my long braids all pinned up, my hair darkening on its own, reading books while the snow swirled outside. I didn't think I'd be in Claremont, of all places. My cousin went there. I would go on her coast. I would major in pre-law and go to a top tier law school. I'd find a sensitive boy with glasses who liked books and cartoons.

Boy aside, I'm radically different than all these ideas. I'm in sunny Scripps, I have a somewhat-bob and dye the sweet baby krishna out of it, am majoring in religious studies, and have legit no idea where I'm going in my life.

That may sound negative, but it's not.

I didn't think I'd live the life I live.

have the (wonderful, giving, saintly) friends I have.

have experienced beautiful experiences.

be majoring in RELIGIOUS STUDIES.

BE GOING TO EDINBURGH.

You never estimate where you'll be in ten years. You can't. A lot can happen in a month, let alone a decade.

I have never decided to seize years so I don't forget them: photographing, scrapbooking, documenting. I've decided now.

This is the time when I make it out in the world, sink or swim. This is the last hurrah of individual-hood if you choose to get married and/or have kids. These are the last years one gets to be completely selfish. Soon, people will depend on you as a role model and depend on you for livelihood. You can bet your sweet patoot I'm going to do memorable things.

Now to sleep, in the summer, in my young adulthood, where I don't have to get up until 2:30 PM.