The Beginning

This is the first entry to the blog of Taylor and Justin. I have to say that for a retro-grouch this is very intimidating. I didn't even know that blogs existed before a year ago and one of the motivating factors in beginning one today is that it is for a class assignment. That's not to say that I have nothing interesting to say. It just means that technology and I have begun a relationship and we're in the unsteady phase. Our commitment has yet to be established. To add to this mixture, for many birthdays in the adolescent years I received journals from relatives. These poor journals whose only purpose in life was to be written in, to contain hopes, thoughts and secrets received maybe three entries, only to be put on a shelf somewhere forgotten. So, wish me luck in continuing this diary entry, this thought container, this insight blog. I have to say, that for me to reveal my insides I have to pretend no one will be reading and with the number of blogs out there, that is a good possibility unless I start advertising to friends. Oh, I forgot, my teacher will be reading this as part of my grade. I can feel the secrets shriveling inside me.

I am Taylor. Justin, my boyfriend of three years, will probably (maybe) write in this from time to time. Who knows how he is with diaries either? I am a taurus, he is a Pisces. We met at Southwest, when it was still Southwest and I have never accepted its new title because I left before it changed. I left after a semester and nothing I can imagine would make me go back. Our politics differed, me and Southwest and I came running back to Austin screaming, "Thank God, some democrats!" Austin Community College became my new friend but after a year or so we grew apart. I needed different things. I transferred to St. Edward's and we are meshing real fine. I am going to school to become a high school English teacher (please don't judge my grammar or spelling based on this fact, otherwise you'll get a linguistic lecture) and at the rate I'm going I won't be done for years. Who would think that working while going to school would slow me down. My problem is I don't believe in overworking myself. I love working at BookPeople and I love going to school but I also love free time. So, if I am full-time at one, I am part-time at the other.

The first year Justin and I lived together we got a cat, Chi. The second year we lived together we got a dog, Nathan. The third year we lived together we got another dog, Teddy. We have lived in three apartments and been robbed in each of them. The first was a bike off the balcony. The second was a CD player and the CD case I was silly enough to leave in the car. The third was the x box (Justin cried for a week) taken from the living room while I was in the bedroom. Breaking in noises and cat noises sound a lot alike. But this time I got to chase burglar ass out of my house. How's that for independent, ass kicking, liberated woman strength? The teacher who's reading this blog actually caught herself a burglar and called the police. The guy turned out to be a drunk who entered the wrong balcony but that still takes a lot of guts.

Now we live in a fourth residence, a house, that
we own. The picture of it is to the right. It is taken from the driveway of the house across the street that has been deserted for twenty years. Did any of you have the creepy ghost house on your street growing up. Well, my adult one is across the street. I am superstitious enough to not go peek in the windows. I love the neighborhood we live in. Lots of trees. Especially in my front and back yard. We have great neighbors on either side of our house. I can make noise and not feel bad, paint walls and not worry about losing my deposit and laugh at the idea of a pet deposit. The last apartment I lived in took Justin and me for $1,000 dollars in deposits and we got $164 back. I hate apartments.

My street has block parties, not that we have attended any. The neighbors talk to one another, not that we do very much. The neighbors know each other's names. I think the woman two doors down is named Sharmaine. I hope she doesn't read this or if she does, I hope she doesn't know my name either. But these are all great things in my book. If I was more like my friend, Miranda, maybe I would do and know these things. I'll get there... someday.

Now, I am tired. I have no conclusion, other to to say, "maybe I'll write again". Until then.

Taylor Romero