i was going to write about last night's discovery that my sister had opened (not opened, burned the candle to find out what was inside of) the root beer bottle full of notes from my fellow cabin 10-ers at GUCI four summers ago. i was going to say how she "accidentally" threw away all of the notes because she didnt realize how important they were. i was going to mention the metaphorical significance of someone else throwing away these memories and how i had been waiting for years to open them and hadn't found the right time. i was going to acknowledge that this led me to find that my journal from middle school was REALLY easily accessible and that she probably could have read that too. i was going to then explain that i spent the half hour after the bottle incident reading my old journal and finding it to be absolutely hilarious, such as the fact that under "my perfect perfect perfect perfect guy" was "doesnt talk during the good parts of movies, even if he's seen them." yep, i actually wrote that.
but then i realized that it wasnt all that interesting, and i just summed up everything that happened anyway.
in other news, im going to be in israel right now in a week.
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