How can I not love you.

I lost the tune in the shower.

How can I not love you / when you're gone is all I can remember of it. But no accompanying melody.

It is said that one of the off-shoots of "blogger burnout" is that you could start another, new blog, and it would be better than your first because it was more honest.

I started this one.

David mentioned me by name in his, for the first time. He left it simply at, "To Jasmine: I'm sorry. Please don't drink."

I'm sorry too, David, I really am. For the way things turned out. I wish they didn't have to be this way but they are and I can't change that unless you're there to change it with me. So be it.

If I lived a hundred years ago, I might have wanted a ballgown for Christmas. Today, however, it's a pair of Levi's ladies jeans that top my wishlist. I've also developed a fondness for all things old-world, like Chanel No. 5. Although I'm shelving that for my 21st, chances are, I'll probably get that before the year's out.

And what a year it will be. One of transition and change, heartbreak and renewal, love, hurt, anger, healing.