June 1998

(Author's note: Well, well, well. It's been over a year since I discovered Oasis, and I've written a grand total of 3 columns. Every time I think about Oasis, I promise myself that I'm going to sit down and write another column...and then something comes up, and I completely forget. Then the month whizzes by, the deadline has passed, and the cycle starts over again. Oh well. I suppose it's better this way, really, because when I write, I have something to write about. That being said, on with the column.)

Several months have passed since my last column, and a lot of things have changed. Not necessarily in the world around me, but in the world within me. In a way, I'm going through a second "coming out". A "coming out" of myself. You see, there are things you don't know, because I never told you. For example, I have -- or rather, I had -- a love for the color black. I only wore black. Quite a contrast with my slightly pale skin. Death warmed over, you might say. Don't ask me what happened, or what brought out this change, but the black clothing is now sitting quietly in my dresser drawers, only to be brought out in times of mourning. Or if I have nothing else to wear.

Why? Because I went shopping. And if you knew me, you would know that when I shop, I SHOP! I spent nearly $500 in savings on clothes alone... but I think that it's done me a lot of good. I feel better about myself in these brighter, more stylish colors. Not to mention the fact that people at school and on the streets are giving me a second glance. Women AND men. <grin> I even bought a hat. Again, if you knew me, you would know that a hat is like a major life change.

And speaking of major life changes... I was accepted into Western Illinois University! My first college choice, and I'm in! The 27 on my ACT helped. A lot. By the time you read this, I will be preparing for high school graduation on June 5... I'm kind of scared, really. Transitions like this are often hard. For me, anyway.

So I'm stepping through the turnstile, and listening as each bar clicks behind me. I can't go back. Not now. Not ever.

Well, I've rattled on long enough. Feel free to write me at OneWingdAngel@hotmail.com

And if you don't...at least I have my hat.

Bon soir,


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