Today, I suppose, is one of those thinking days.

I have yet to accomplish anything I am proud of, excluding Joanna's birthday present, which just so happened to be a major success, and the highlight of the month of April, no matter when her birthday was.

I still feel as if my life is at a stand still. A teenage stand still-which is a sluggish lifestyle that becomes "un-stood-stuck" the first day of summer. That's what I'm waiting for, more reading, more writing, more filming, more people, more postcards, more genuine smiles, more late nights, more early mornings, more loud music, more sand between my toes, less worries, less cares, less sighs, less wasted times, less unfortunate weather.

This is all, of course, taking place in Michigan (more or less, pun). Except for a week in Texas which I may, or may not, be in Dallas for a wedding and two birthdays.

And I am very excited! Very excited to achieve something that I will be proud of. I have no idea what it will be, but I am anxious to try and find out.

I am energetic, I am optimistic, I am hopeful, and I will end with a poem of my own that I do not hate.

I wrote it on March twenty-eighth.

I'm not much of a poet,
but I will tell you what happened.
It is customary for me to listen to the news as I drive.
Sailing down the streets late one evening, the stars continually catch my eye.
I am reminded of you immediately and recall exaggerated memories that often get told, often just to myself.
I begin to sing loudly, from the heart, like a faithful Gospel singer, all the love songs I know.
The songs bounce off the stars and remain to this very moment amongst them, ricocheting off their light.
I hope they caught your ear, wherever you are, because I am certain we see the same stars.
I park at home and cease my song. The newscasters try to behave as if they did not hear.
Even they know, however, that you are loved.