Somewhere on the top of the list of things not to be in an equal rights rally surrounded by a hoard of Latinos there is me: The white girl wearing a tiara. I learned this the hard way when a man behind me started to mock me, in Spanish to the man standing next to him. “She wants to be a princess!” He said. Sheepishly, I took the tiara off. Though that probably goes without saying. But, anyhizzle…

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I decided, fourteen days before my sixteenth birthday, that I was going to write a book. And so I took out a notebook and I wrote. And I wrote. And I wrote a lot. But I didn’t write enough for a book, in fact I probably didn’t even write enough to publish my own newspaper full of things that people don’t care about enough to read.

And so. The moral of this story is that I am going to keep a blog of my observations of stuff. And things. And just so I don’t have to strain myself too much — because don’t kid yourself, writing is something that puts a lot of strain on the old brain bone — all of my first posts are going to be re-workings of the things that I wrote down in my book that isn’t really a book or a magazine. Except for this, which is my introduction.

I hope that it isn’t too painfully obvious that I’m trying to be funny, because really I am trying to amuse you. Any good writer knows that in order to keep an audiences attention, you need suspense. My suspense is in whether or not my next sentence is going to be funny. That one wasn’t. Neither was that one. But I think you get the point.

My name is Antigone and I am not a real teenager. Pleased to meet you.