Did you know that a fixed tray with acrylic burrs is the same as a removable tray with fixed burrs and a high speed?

You don't? WHY THE FUCK NOT?!

What's weird is how much happier I am now that I don't identify as a punk. Maybe that's to be expected, in the whole "ignorance is bliss" kind of sense.

In high school, I had a teacher who would devote a whole class period to a game he called "Ask me anything about anything." The rules were that we'd go row by row and you had to ask him a question. Even if the question was, "What's your favorite color?" One time, I asked him the question: "Do you think that the boy you were would approve of the man you've become?" I can't recall his answer, only that he said it was a very good question.

I often wonder the same thing.

At some point in high school, I envisioned myself returning with a shaved head and head-tattoo, a long flowing mint green skirt, pierced lip and goth boots. I'd say that I was a successful writer and I'd glow with self-confidence and happiness.

As a little girl, I looked at my reflection and wondered what I'd look like as an adult. I bet fewer little boys than little girls obsess about how they'll look when they're older. Little boys probably wonder if they will be an astronaut or a doctor, not a Tyra Banks or Tori Amos.

What I want today: to be constantly growing, changing and challenged, to be surrounded by people I love, a degree of economic stability, and to look fly but not necessarily subversive. AND, to accomplish something magnificent. I'm just not sure what this magnificence needs to be. For the longest time, I defined it as occurring on the national or international scale. But now, I think this might be the exact opposite of what's needed. That being magnificent on a community level will have me feel happy and fulfilled. Or, simply, on the level of my family and friends. I guess that's a punk sentiment.