An Overview of the Incomplete

There are so many things I wanted to do here that I never did.

I wanted to tell you more about my family, because I embody them more than anything else in the world. I wanted to tell you more about my school and my teachers, more about my friends. I wanted to think more about my friends. I wanted to tell you about my socks, and my hair, my cat Shea and my love of baseball. I wanted to say how glass and crystal entrance me, and how deeply I abhor shopping.

I wanted to write more about Harry Potter, more about singing, more about art class. I wanted to tell you about rescuing kittens in my backyard, and how I couldn't read four pages into "Flowers for Algernon," because I was crying so hard. I wanted to change my template.

I wanted to tell you about finding taxis in London, accidentally tracking the Live 8 concert in Hyde park, and finally seeing Les Miserbles after missing it on Broadway. I wanted to tell you about the Vatican and our insane tour guide, about waiting an hour and a half between courses at meals, and about the animals in Venice. I wanted to write about the wonderful people we met, and the odds we managed to beat together.

I wanted to tell you about reading outside on summer evenings. I wanted to write about autumn, and the intangible something in the breeze as August ends that tells us it is September. I wanted to tell you how many tutors I have had in the past twelve years, and what spectacular women they all are.

I wanted more poetry, more stories, more follow-through. I wanted to write a play. I wanted to philosophize, and to update every day.

I wanted to write fewer one-line entrances.

But I didn't want it all to end so fast.