Unlock my body and move myself to dance
Moving warm liquid, flowing blowing glass

I miss the innocence I’ve known
Playing KISS covers, beautiful and stoned

Sometimes, y’know, I feel like there are things I’ve got to tell y’all. I have to wax poetic to my audience of me. Or not. Sometimes I just feel like talking.

It’s been a weird year. In some ways, I’ve had a maturity growth spurt, but mostly I just feel like I’m in middle school all over again. I’m thirteen but foolishly entrusted with a driver’s license and the legal ability to purchase alcohol. Some things don’t change; I’ve spent my summer biking around, gorging myself on chocolate, trying to read Vonnegut‘s entire bibliography (again, middle school flashback), pretending I am thinking about going to the gym, when I know all too well I’ll just watch another episode of “Mad Men” on Netflix Instant. I’ve listened to more Ben Kweller than I should likely admit, though the (very talented) musician hasn’t released a new album that I’ve heard in full since 2006.

Ben Kweller, “Thirteen”
(See also: “Sundress“)

But, some things have changed. Like, for the first time since Matt Hester*, I don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend. Not Ducky’s. Not The Chemist’s (despite the insistence of everyone else, I really just want to keep being his best friend). Not the unnamed, straight San Francisco gentleman with no face who I occasionally fantasize will sweep me off my feet come fall. I don’t want the responsibility of caring for or about anyone else, and I don’t want the pleasure of shedding ten thousand tears over stupid arguments. And, yes. Right now, and for the foreseen future, being someone’s girlfriend would be a burden. I’m still (slowly but hopefully surely) getting me together again.

I’m not ready to buckle down to be anyone but me, as cheesy as that may sound. But seriously. Academically and professionally and socially, I’ve been a bit of a dolt, and I am desperately ready for a fresh (homeless, exciting and influential) start in San Francisco come fall. And Charlie Conway came back to me! I’m taking that as a major league sign that things are lookin’ up.

Here’s the long n’ short of it all: I’m exorcising all of the bitchiness from my life. That’s my major solution. I’m clipping my tongue and watching the sarcasm; I’m putting the stops on friendships that do little more than antagonize or patronize me; and I’m ridding myself of the habits, possessions and tendencies that propel me to behave like an egotistical, superficial, money-grubbing Queen Bee.

So, that’s that. I’m pleasingly moving forward. I’m listening to a lot of Sha Sha. I’m preparing for San Francisco. I’m refusing to be any man’s Robin. And I’m generally behavin’.

‘Cept when I wear my bikini to the Wal-Mart and they ask me to leave.

Happy August, friends.

*Matt Hester, if you’re reading this, thanks for coming to my cosmic bowling party in seventh grade. And for the brown and white stuffed dog from Kohl’s. He’s doing well.