For the past 24 hours I’ve been very nostalgic for my little hometown where I grew up. I’ve been avoiding MSN because I’m too lazy to type, but last night I actually went on to chat and talked to a couple of old friends that I hadn’t talked to in a long time. And then I started looking at pictures of everyone together (sans me) and then… I missed home. I miss not being able to go anywhere without running into someone you know. It’s inevitable. You can’t leave your house without seeing someone. I miss driving that 7 minute little strip between Timmins and South Porcupine. I miss walking…

I’m sort of getting bored of all my secrecy. I’m preeeeeetty positive that everyone that reads my blog knows who I am, or at least isn’t some horribly scary stalker man (or woman, I’m all for gender equality). It also seems rather pretentious of me, as I am assuming that my writing is interesting enough to warrant someone’s devoted obsession. When I started my blog a few months ago the prospect of strangers reading my blog seemed excitingly dangerous, and the possibility of crazies coming after me seemed much higher, especially after watching Peyton’s situation on One Tree Hill (if you haven’t seen it, you MUST). But really, I don’t…