Dear, Diary...

When I started this blog mere days ago, I naturally told all my best gal pals (FOLLOW ME, BETCHES). My friend Ellen retorted, "I just don't get blogs, aren't they basically like, online diaries?" To which I wanted to respond, "Yes, Ellen. In fact, I am going to chronicle the date, time, and location of my every bowel movement." Because Ellen isn't a fan of this type of gross, sarcastic humor, I made the mature decision not to taunt her. However, I do think that under certain conditions, Ellen is indeed correct. A personal blog has aspects of an online diary. And on that note, my story begins.

About a month ago, the ancient Trooper that I had been driving started acting up. So my wonderful parents offered a trade. I switched cars with my Pops and am now driving a fully functioning Saturn. Or so I thought. Upon using the CD system for the first time, I was left in disappointment. Damn thing stopped working somewhere around track 5. I tried so many different CDs and concluded that perhaps, this is simply karma telling me I need to stop burning CDs and actually give the starving artists out there their just reward.

I was browsing the music section at Target in hopes of outfitting my new wheels with some new (and legal) jams. My number one pick:

I think it's only fair to thank my parents for introducing me to James, Sweet Baby James.

Also purchased Mission Bell by Amos Lee and the Best of Eric Clapton...excitingggg! So I get in my car, ready to jam. Karma is back on track and I. Am. Pumped. I was on track 5 and things were going swell...thought I was home free. Wahhh, wahhh. Somewhere in the middle of belting "How Sweet It Is" came silence. Vat the hell? Turns out it's a matter of ejecting, reinjecting (?), and being patient. Although my plan was to return the CDs if the car turned out to be faulty, I'm one of those gets-so-excited-and-opens-everything-right-away (!!!) people. So if you feel like listening to some E.C., A.L., or J.T., you know who's got the CDs. I'm still hoping it'll just all of a sudden decide to stop this cat and mouse game with me and let me enjoy my tunes. We'll see.

I'll leave you with one of my favorites. If you don't love James Taylor now, I'm guessing you will by the end of this song. Soothe, baby, soothe.