01.13.2012
Even at a young age, I imagined myself as narrator in an ghost-written biography. I felt the world around me mere fantasy, and my scripted life played out in my head, like Alice in Wonderland. Coincidentally, this is precisely how my father kept his journal, though I never saw those volumes until after he passed.
Chronicling my existence thus, one day as I sprawled on the floor perusing the classified ads in search of a $100 car, I startling myself and my mother by announcing aloud, " 'Here's one,' she said." Time stood still under mom's intent gaze. I was too stunned to pass it off as a joke. Who knows what she thought?
While my life lacked the excitement of Nancy Drew or Amelia Earhart, the compulsion to write was growing. I set off early to begin my "real" life at 16, leaving home to commence the adventure I lay before you. A literary friend helps me sift the mundane from the unusual, with her exclamations & questions about my fantastic travels. If some of these tales seem far-fetched, remember that truth is stranger than fiction.
Grant me your indulgence.
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