When I picture myself in my head, I still have hair. I'm 23 going on 24, and I'm in Madison, Wisconsin. The most pressing thing in my life at the moment is outlining my thesis and producing a lit review for my advisor. I'm thinking about how the Vietnamese language studies I'm doing that summer will make my thesis more poignant. I also have sincere wishes to be able to communicate better with my mother. I even feel like the intense Midwest humidity will make me be able to understand my mother better, because white people who've been to Vietnam tell me that it's just like this--the humidity always on the brink.
I go to BW3 every Tuesday with Julie for their wing special. We never touch the Blazin', but usually go for the spicy garlic and honey bbq. We have some beers and plan our camping trip for the weekend. I'm pretty psyched that I brought my tent from LA. It's been great driving the country roads and discover the oddities of Wisconsin. It was cool, for example, to meet old man Burlingame after me and Julie stoped by the side of the road to buy a stool he had at the end of his driveway to sell. I convinced Julie she really needed to buy that stool.
I struggle with this picture in my head--I can't remember if I actually had pigtails that summer or not. I went through a lotta long hair/short hair battles. Maybe I was in transition.
It's true, though, that frequently the picture in my head is me, smiling with pigtails, no glasses, rainbow tank top and light denim skirt, and it's me leaning over to Julie asking, "One more? another spicy garlic..." And Julie, licking her fingers, taking a gulp of beer, just grins.
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