So I have been putting off that first-post-of-the blog for about two weeks now, going over what I should write, and what I shouldn't, and who will read it - what if nobody reads it?... what if I give them the wrong impression and they write me off... who is 'them,' again?
Right, so I think it's safe to say I can over-think things. A lot.
Regardless, here I am on a gorgeous Sunday morning, determined to at least post something before I allow myself to do something fun - like ride around on a Centro bus all day.
Since I'm new to Eagle, new to my communities - Solvay, Geddes, Westvale, Camillus, Jordan, Elbridge, Fairmount - and still relatively new to being anything other than a student, I'll try to make this a little introduction to myself.
I'm not very good, or comfortable, with this sort of thing, by the way - I am much better at asking questions of other people, or answering questions someone else shoots at me - the idea of offering up unsolicited information about myself, to me, seems dangerously close to becoming that person who speaks of nothing else. But, you don't know me, and I want you to...
Next month, I will have been out of college for a year. So, yes, I'm young, and I look even younger. It's cool, I'm used to it, I'm reassured it will work to my advantage in the future.
I grew up in a small town in the New Hartford/Utica area, but I moved here to Syracuse from Boston. I didn't live in Boston very long, but I think about it a lot, and tend to compare my life here to my life there. That's just a warning - I'll probably bring that up a lot.
I'm struggling to learn to play guitar. Struggling, because I don't commit enough time to learning, and I get frustrated quickly and easily. Other than that, I'd say it's going well.
It bothers me a lot that people my age don't pay attention to the news. Any news - global, national, local. I'm not sure how to change it, I'm not sure it can be changed, but it really bugs me.
I am engaged. We have a puppy.
And I have a killer sweet tooth. Killer, as in, I could eat myself to death if I were presented with enough ice cream to do so. I may have to look into hypnosis to break the addiction.
It's funny what you come up with when you want to give strangers a general idea of who you are, what defines you.

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While "researching" for a story last week, a man I was chatting up at the bus stop asked me why the winners of inter-state lottery games always live in New Jersey and Florida.
Not that it was relevant in any way to the conversation we were having, but he was apparently quite preoccupied by the mysterious inner workings of the lottery system.
He said he probably spent $20,000 on lottery tickets since moving to Syracuse two years ago. That's a lot of money; he agreed.
The bus came, we went our separate ways. I forgot about the lottery.
Then just yesterday I was at a red light and I looked over into the car waiting in the lane beside me. The driver was working hard at a scratch-off lottery ticket. While driving. Right.
I'm not judging - I love money, too. I like games, as well, so I can see how the combination is appealing to so many people.
I don't play the lottery though, I don't bet on sports and I can count my visits to casinos on one hand. So the willingness of others to spend money for a chance to win money - a small, small chance - got me wondering why I don't do the same.
Then the beautiful weather hit, and I stood out on the sidewalk Saturday evening in sandals, shorts and a tank top, watching the sky just beginning to darken though it was well past 8 p.m. I felt my muscles relax, I smelled the grass.
And I realized - I don't get a summer vacation anymore.
I decided then that I want to play the lottery for a shot at winning a lifetime supply of summer vacations. I want to play the lottery and win a prize that allows me to live anywhere in the world without ever having to be far from my family and friends. To be forgiven all my student loans, without having to physically give up that excruciating amount of money - oh yeah, I'd play daily.
Oh, I know these are all very self-serving motives. At least if I were suddenly blessed with a lump sum of cash I could toy with the idea of donating to charity. You can't donate a summer to charity, not in the literal sense, but I still want it, and I don't care who knows it.
I wonder what other people would play for. I wonder what my father would play for, if not the money, or my favorite professor from college. Or the waitress at my favorite diner, the one who looks like my fiance's mother and always knew what I wanted for breakfast.
And I wonder how telling it is of a person's nature to learn what they believe is a worthy prize to spend a dollar toward. A dollar is a lot of money, these days - not necessarily in and of itself, but you have to have one dollar before you can have one million, even if that first one is spent on the winning ticket.

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