So, I guess I'll start with life.

I was born in Tulsa Oklahoma, with severe asthma, a heart murmur, and six weeks premature. Oh, and I weighted five pounds. I lived, obviously, and then I spent the next 13 years of my life hopscotching from one place to another. Not that I rally minded. I liked it better then sitting in one place.

I had my first job at age four. That's how I learned to count. I loved being four. That was the best birthday. It lasted over a week. My parents took me from Tulsa, where my dad's family was, too Forest Lake, where my Mom's family lived, then to se Mickey Mouse. My first memories, were that birthday.

We didn't celebrate like that until last year. My dad turned fifty, and I turned sweet you-know-what. I hated it. I still hate it. I would have been ten forever if they'd have let me. But no, eleven had to come, so did 12, 13, 14, 15, and that other one. Too bad.

But anyway, if I gave all the details of my life, I'd be writing a book, not a journal entry.

I'm a writer, and published poet. Yeah, I know. Not much of an accomplishment, but hey, it's a start. I don't want to do that for a living mind you. I just want to be remembered for something.

That's one of the reasons I want to be the female Donald Trump. With all that money, there comes power, and with all that power I could help people. I just want to make people... whole. With his kind of power, I could really make a profound difference (yes, I know the meaning of profound.)

My painting is coming along. The background is dark of barren, desolate. But the tree. Boy was she giving me hell! I wanted her to be... dying, dead even. But I didn't like the pencil drawings. It was so bleak, so sad. So, I messed around with it, and tah-dah! She's a living, thriving, fat, health, tree! (Yes, that was repetative.) Flowers blooming all aroungd her, vines climbing her sides, and lushous leaves crowding her head. Perfection. Total contrast. Hope in the midst of anguish.

I'll write more later.