As I prepare to settle down in front of the screen and type all of my thoughts, I feel like I have the words I want to use in order to express myself. Then when I finally have my fingers resting on top of the keys, I hesitate. When I do type something, I stop and wonder if what I just wrote was good enough. I know I am not writing journal entries to please other people. Of course, they’re for me, yet when it comes to typing my inner thoughts, feelings, and emotions, many of the words that come to my mind are simply not good enough.

When I think about traveling and the adventure I am to embark on this summer, I can feel an indescribable excitement surging through me. Really, in order to know what I feel like, you have to be me. I also feel impatience and apprehension. It is impatience because, well, I want my vacation today or tomorrow; apprehension, because of my expectations and hopes for what I want this summer to be. My brother thinks I am silly and immature because my priorities are not his priorities. He ridicules me because I have a passion for exploration and learning about foreign cultures. On the other hand, I spent most of my life sheltering myself, literally scared of life and not experiencing it to the extent many other children were able to reach. In a way, traveling is my way of breaking free, to venture into other worlds and experience something that is soley my experience and nobody else’s. As children, people are able to roam free and learn about the world, playing with their peers without a care in the world. I never played sports, joined any clubs, or took part in activities which most kids were involved. I was most likely that little girl you saw at Disneyland hysterically wailing at the sight of Mickey Mouse or Goofy. Heck, I never got my picture taken with Santa Clause until I was thirteen-years-old. So while I am still young and free of many responsibilities, why shouldn’t I be able to enjoy what I love doing most? There is more to life than slaving through college and delving into a career that ties you down. I am sure that humans were not meant to spend eight hours every day in an office. Sure, I am using a cliché, but isn’t it true that many people spend their lives stuck in a job they absolutely detest while hoping that something better comes along?

Don’t throw me off of the Zeppelin yet. If I’ve predicted the total of my next paycheck correctly, I should be able to buy my ticket to Europe tomorrow. Then, of course, I’ll be broke for a week until next Friday.

I would have had the money last week, but since I overdrew my checking account by forty dollars due to miscommunication, Bank of America decided to rip me off and charge me a $30 fee – five times. I got them to reverse two of them. I had to ask a manager to reverse the other three, though she refused because they refunded the first $60 as a “courtesy”. So I overdrew my account because I thought I had money on it. I made a mistake, and I admit that. Everyone makes mistakes, so why can’t they make an exception this one time? I would have understood if they refused after I did it multiple times and took advantage of leniency. From this entire episode, however, I have learned three lessons: one, Bank of America’s customer service sucks; two, use overdraft protection; and three, switch to another bank.

Anyway, I’m sitting here on the couch watching CNN recapping the Grammy Awards, and I would like to pose one of a few questions: Why the hell does Paul McCartney still have a music career? He’s an old grandfather with a waning voice and a following that is based on the fact that he is only one of two Beatles still alive. I know the Beatles “revolutionized” music, blah, blah, blah, blah, but I simply do not understand why Paul is acclaimed as a gifted solo artist.

Aside from the Beatles, The Rolling Stones is probably another band that is overrated. I was not able to tune into the Super Bowl (nor would I have wanted to), but judging from the clips and news coverage, the Stones’ performance was horrible. I think it’s about time that they each retired to their own English mansions and spare the world of sixty-year-old rockers with wrinkles bigger than their talent. Has anyone seen what Keith Richards looks like? I have the urge to inject him with a few thousand cc’s of botox myself. There are cancer survivors who have gone through intensive chemotherapy that look better than this guy.

Okay, so I’m brutal and there are probably people out there that claim my taste in music is questionable. I do like techno, world, and new age among other genres. My reasons for not liking the above mentioned bands are most likely the same reason why people don’t like what I like. I’m all open for criticism.