Chapter one

I've been swapping emails almost daily with one of the guys I met last week from Sheffield, England, who I'll call T. Sheffield. For now it seems I have a pen-pal. I like it. A lot. It's nice to just talk with someone about other things, not ourselves. I don't even know what he does for a living. I just asked him in this morning's email.

Even though T. Sheffield is English, and most likely very open minded as most Europeans are, I'll nonetheless ease into my sinful proclivities slowly.

Though,

The last time I did something I wouldn't talk to my family about was...
October 2012?

Still,

It's just nice talking to someone about beaches, sharing humor, random things, and different vegetarian foods (he's a strict vegetarian.) 

Yesterday T. Sheffield bought a Raiders shirt. I asked him if he realized he bought a shirt about an American football team, and not 12th century Norsemen who used human skulls as drinking cups.

T. Sheffield said he was more of a Dolphins fan. Again, I don't know if he means American football or actual sea mammals.
We're still working on our communication!

At the moment T. Sheffield thinks I'm a nice girl. I like it.   

I finished the book I was reading Blackburn . It had an interesting ending. Books on non/fictional serial killers can only end so-many ways, he either gets caught or doesn't get caught.

But,

I guess that's the ultimate question from chapter one.
  
Composition of character -- fantasy, reality, until death ends all of our bullshit.