The Original Ashley

The second half of my life will be black to the white rind of the old and fading moon. The second half of my life will be water over the cracked floor of these desert years. I will land on my feet this time, knowing at least two languages and who my friends are. I will dress for the occasion, and my hair shall be whatever color I please. Everyone will go on celebrating the old birthday, counting the years as usual, but I will count myself new from this inception, this imprint of my own desire. The second half of my life will be swift, past leaning fenceposts, a gravel shoulder, asphalt tickets, the beckon of open road. The second half of my life will be wide-eyed, fingers shifting through fine sands, arms loose at my sides, wandering feet. There will be new dreams every night, and the drapes will never be closed. I will toss my string of keys into a deep well and old letters into the grate. The second half of my life will be ice breaking up on the river

Wednesday marked the birthday of my friend Christine, and to celebrate I offered to host a little dinner party for her. "I'll make whatever you want for dinner and dessert!" I said, confident that whatever she asked for I could manage even if I hadn't made it before. I even offered suggestions, like lasagna, chicken parmesan, Quebecois chicken.... Roast Beef with Yorkshire pudding! (I'd never made a roast beef before but it was a staple of Sunday dinners growing up and I thought it couldn't be terribly hard) So Christine chose roast beef, and I went to my mothers cook book to get the recipe... only it isn't in there! Well, alright, I'm sure I can find one online that will suit my purpose. And it was in this research that I discovered that roast beef takes time to cook. Like.... hours. Crap. Because Christines birthday was a Wednesday, and I work until 4:30, I told her to be there around 6. I need to find a way to cook a roast for an hour and a half t

30 by 30 Lists, Bucket lists, basically do at least something before you die lists, are in a sense a little morbid. It implies that the finish line is approaching, and if you want to make something out of your life, if you want to do them at all, you'd better do them fast. Maybe some people work better with a deadline though... if my scholastic history can show you anything, it's that I certainly do. And more often than not I'll leave it to the last minute and race through the project and have it ready at the last possible second. Maybe that's why I make list's like these. I know if I don't set a deadline, (and isn't that an apt word), I'll spend my life telling myself that I'd love to do these things, I should do these things, I will do these things.... someday. Not today, I don't have time today. I know myself enough by now to recognize that I am a very susceptible to procrastination, and I know that if I do not make a plan to do something