Introduction

Some girls begin chronicling their lives as soon as they learn to write. Other girls completely refuse to journal on principle or simply disinterest. Still others live in guilt throughout their lifetimes: they make life-inspiring resolutions to begin journaling, spend days, or even weeks, shopping for that perfect diary (which is generally as expensive as a masterpiece novel), all to completely abandon it weeks later. I, unfortunately, fall into the third category - and I have a collection of desolate diaries to prove it.

Now, hopefully with your encouragement, I begin the in vogue diary - a blog.

The next years in my life are crucial to document. If you know me, you realize I have the memory of a goldfish. For the uninformed, goldfish once were thought to have a memory span of three seconds. This, thank goodness for me, has been disproven: turns out they can remember up to three months... Now that I don't live in the same town as my friends, who will remind me of what I have done? [Alex remembers the outfit I wore in 2004, and I cannot remember the event. Chelsea remembers who I took to sorority formals or had a crush on, and I have no idea I thought the boy was cute.] How in the world will I tell my children about the fun I had in Europe, if I can't remember which town was my favorite? How will I recall the best experiences of my life if they are not documented and accessible? Drumroll, please. A blog. I am praying that you keep me accountable, and accept this as my daily (or bi-weekly...) letter to you, personally, to keep you up to date on my life.

I hope to take you on my journey, share my experiences, and maybe even outline some dreams. I offer the perspective of a Southern girl from Mississippi. Single when most are married. Traveling Europe while most are settled comfortably at home. And moving to the city when most are enjoying the South. For the record, it's not that I am against any of the these things. Some proofs:

(1) Anna and Matt are made for each other.

(2) Faeh and Bryan can cook me under the table any day.

(3) My house will probably never look as picture perfect as Alex and Chelsea's.

Nevertheless, I am the one who is expected to tell the good stories that everyone lives vicariously through. I am the girl who is brave (or silly) enough to travel solo. I am the girl who has the misfortunate possibility of witnessing the worst (or best) dates ever known. I am the girl who may fight snow and commuter traffic unlike any seen south of the Mason-Dixon line. So, here goes nothing.

Enjoy!