I know that nobody reads this blog anymore. My writing has become dull, despite the change of pace in my life.

The question, I propose, is: If I write something dull, is that better than nothing at all?

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I love my privacy. More than I thought. It's not the nicest place. I have no room in my room. But the fact that it's mine makes it liveable. The same goes with cooking. Most of the stuff I eat on my own is simple, like cereal or bagels, etc. But the fact that I am making it on my own, with my own hands, in my own home, using my own _____ (microwave...toaster...bowl and milk...), the taste is suddenly so much better. I love living on my own.

I strive for the feeling of independence. I want to be a grown-up.

I think this feeling is because I am a "December baby." All my life, I have been prohibited to live like my peers. I am restricted from so many parts that are considered "major" in the average teens life. Not restricted, just delayed.
My friends got their licenses one to two years before I did. They could vote, smoke, buy porn (and in some provinces, drink) legally before me. That is why I hate birthdays. They are only a restriction. A count-down of how much longer I must wait until I can live like the rest.

Perhaps that is why I do not want my license. I want to say "fuck you" to the person who proposed that age is the easiest way to test maturity. I know plenty of people who should not have their license, or the legal right to drink.

I like to think I am mature, more so than most stereotypical guys my age, anyway. But maturity does not matter. Only age. Hence the beard. Is it possible to disguise my age with a beard? (Yes, I found that out Friday night...).

But just recently, my thoughts have begun to transform. I am beginning to see some good in being so fucking young.

I am going to (assuming I do well in school) have a diploma in music by the time I am 19. The year that people in Sask. are legally allowed to drink, I will have a diploma. When I am 20, I could have 2 (if I stay at MacEwan). By 22 years old, I could have FOUR diplomas in music. That is a neat thought.

I'm done. Laundry is waiting. I am not even going to reread this, so I hope it makes sense.