146 บรรทัดแรก
When I decided at the last minute
to take a year off before college,
I told my mom it was because I had no idea
what I wanted to do with my life.
She pretended she didn't want to strangle me.
But sweetie, that's the whole point of college:
is to figure out what you want to do,
to find out what you're good at, to discover your bliss.
But what if I don't discover it until junior year,
and it has nothing to do with the classes I've already taken?
I'd have to start over.
Or what if my bliss is something I don't even need college for?
I'm not going to lie to you, Katie. I'm concerned.
Why? Tons of kids defer.
You're not tons of kids.
You're one complicated girl who's been through a lot.
You need structure.
Are you saying that college is the only place
that I can get structure?
Because if so, Miss Matsuo...
Katie. I'm serious.
Here's something.
Why don't you start a diary.
Or a blog?
Why?
It's a daily time commitment.
It'll keep your verbal skills sharp.
And it'll force you to be introspective.
What a wonderful idea.
I was just lying to escape her vegan breath.
At least that's what I thought at the time.
But I guess not.
What the fuck?
Here I am blogging.
Anyway, I'm going to start by telling you a secret,
something I've never told anyone.
The real reason I'm taking a year off is because of a guy,
an older one.
A man.
And he's the most amazing...
Shit, got to go.
Boo!
Boo!
Boo!
You're late.
You noticed.
Dan and I have one strict rule:
we don't talk about his girlfriend...
or my boyfriend.
Dan teaches film at a really good community college,
so we only watch serious cinema.
I feel smarter just being around him.
One of the best things about my year off
is that I get to continue my education.
He never asks for anything in return.
He just wants me to relax and enjoy it.
Dad?
You always hold back in the end.
I'm sorry.
It's your loss.
Have, uh... I got some news.
I'm, uh, moving closer to campus.
Why?
Look at this dump. It's ridiculous.
Looks like I'm still in grad school.
Well, did you already find a place?
Yeah. It's great.
And they'll let me move in on the 15th
Well, where is it?
It's like a half-hour away.
We're not going to see each other again.
Of course we will.
Come on, don't be so melodramatic.
No, you're not going to want to come pick me up
and then drive me to your place,
and then back to mine a few hours later.
That's like two hours in the car.
And someone might see us.
Come on, you know I'm right.
If my dad would just buy me that car he promised me,
then I could... I could come see you...
Listen, listen, listen, listen.
We're going to work it out, okay?
We'll work it out. I promise you.
Come on.
Shit.
I'd never touched him before.
I was always too scared.
He came so hard.
He'll definitely call me after he moves.
So don't you think it's time to stop loafing and get a job?
I'm not loafing, I'm blogging.
Since when?
Last week.
What's your blog called?
Not telling.
And you won't find out, because I use a fake name
and I'm changing lots of little details of my life.
Why?
Because if there was even a one in googol chance
of anyone figuring out it was me,
then I wouldn't tell the truth.
And what's the point of having a blog
if you're just going to lie?
Hey, babe.
Why do you call her that?
She's 46.
What is on the agenda for today, hmm?
TV? Internet?
Maybe a good, long nap?
I'm getting a job.
The grill or the fryer?
Ha-ha.
Neither.
Something stimulating that pays extremely well.
This may come as a shock to you, kiddo,
but the economy is in the toilet.
There's 20 applicants for every job.
You underestimate my powers, Earthling.
Today, a reader sent me one of those annoying self quizzes,
which are just a sad excuse to talk about yourself.
What's your favourite number?
69.
Sometimes 96.
Have you ever kissed someone and regretted it?
Yes. Tom Lovelace,
who was 16 when I was 11.
My fist tongue kiss.
It felt like a worm.
Do you believe in the horoscope?
No. Sagittarians never do.
Stop right there!
Don't even put it up.
Have I got the girl for you?
Is that so?
Come in.
What happened to Jonas?
I bought him out, lock stock and barrel.
You have so many more books.
I used to buy my dad
his birthday and Christmas presents here.
He's a sports writer.
Well, he used to be. Now he just drinks.
Sam Johnson's Book Shop. Nice to meet you, Sam.
No, I'm not Sam. He died a long time ago.
Dr. Samuel Johnson wrote the first great English dictionary.
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