My Birthday is the New New Year.

So as I'm sure you've derived from the title, it's my birthday! I hope I can type all of this ish in an hour and nine minutes, or I might be a liar (it's 10:51 p.m.).

For those of you who have kept track of me this year, it's been one of the roughest that I've known. I just wanted to say that I couldn't have done it without you. I wish I knew of a prettier, more distinguished way of thanking you. Soon after I turned 21 I fell into such a hellish little pit of depression that I couldn't find my way out. You knew me through that. You were my little lights of Eärendil. If you catch that reference I might marry you. Unless you are a lady and then I'll just like you a lot. But honestly. Those were the darkest, emptiest days of my life. And then it came time to withdraw from the University and fly to Arizona to rebuild the life that I'd destroyed. My knees shook throughout that entire flight, and I could barely swallow. Remuda Ranch was my last chance to get my shit together, and I was so scared to fail. But then the messages started flooding in. You told me that it would be okay, that I would make it, that I would see the other side.

I'm happy to be reporting from the other side as we speak.

I never responded to your messages. I wasn't sure just what to say. You probably thought that I was ignoring you, or that I didn't care about you...but I pulled those messages up every day. I read them all. The e-mails, the blog comments, the Facebook messages. I sucked the marrow out of that shit and they are what kept me going when I was alone and dog-less out in the middle of a desert trying to find what I had lost. I was so, so scared. Thank you for making me feel a little less alone.

Damn, I could go on for ages on that topic. But I only have 53 minutes left. 52. So, let's talk about my birthday. And I've realized lately that I haven't been living up to my full potential. I have been sleeping...hibernating away, letting myself heal. It's time to start waking up. I don't want to reach 23 without starting to live the life that my cute little well-read, imagination station, head in the clouds ass has always dreamed of living. I've spent my entire life reading about heroes filled to the brim with sweet skills and an extra serving of compassion and honor.

The honor is a work in progress, but I feel pretty good about it. I don't lie. I don't steal anything but cookies. I don't cheat. I have respect for my friends and treat them well. Except for the occasional screened call when I am too sleepy to open my mouth and make sounds. According to my standards, I have honor on lock down.

This leaves sweet skills and an extra serving of compassion.

Oh no. It's 11:16 and that "AMBER GO TO SLEEP" fog just swept over me. Crap, crap, crap! This post was supposed to be so eloquent and "it's-my-birthday-and-everything-will-be-different-from-now-on" inspirational post.

In short, there are so many things that I have left to do. If I died before doing these things, I would somehow find a way to feel regret and self-loathing without actually existing. These are things that I've thought about since I was a little girl, but felt way too embarrassed to talk about. I'm not a huge Share My Dreams girl. But here is a short list of things that I have to do before I turn 23.

1.) Start taking dance lessons. This is so important to me. It always has been. I am a secret dancer. I make up contemporary routines in my house when I know that there is no chance of anyone walking in. When I lived in my big ol' house, I'd bolt the doors, turn off the lights, turn on the music and just go to town. Not sexygirl dancing. That requires zero motor skills. I'm pretty sure I could stuck a fork through my cerebellum and still manage to dirty dance at the club. I want to start doing some contemporary work. Somewhere other than my bathroom.

2.) I want to learn how to shoot a bow and arrow. And possibly go bow hunting. If I can ever get used to the idea of killing something. Which will probably never happen. Regardless, I'm looking in to buying a recurve or compound bow to shoot around with. At this point in my life the only thing that I can do well is take a shot of Bacardi 151 without making a face. So I'd like to have some skills.

3.) I want to finally, FINALLY come up with a plot line for my book that won't embarrass my future progeny. That's going to be pretty difficult. Y'all know me and my taste in literature...I want to produce an Ender's Game but tend to think in terms of Twilight. This is an issue. I want to write something that I can be proud of. I always have been and always will be a story teller (Chelsea the Blind Girl and the Rescue of Little Jimmy from Chester the Molester are a few of my favorites). I don't want to die without letting the rest of the world know about the beautiful people, places and things I see in my head.

4.) On my 23rd birthday, I'd like to finally skydive. That has been another thing I've wanted to do my entire life. It seems like the pinnacle for me. The end-all-be-all of badassery. And I want to feel that rush. I want to have the most kick-ass 22nd year of all time, and celebrate it by throwing myself out of a plane.


In summary, my sweetlings, I want to do several things. But not too long ago I didn't want anything at all. I was ready for the ride to be over. Thanks to you bitches the ride has just begun, and I could never thank you enough for that. Love you guys.