My name is Rachel. Through out my short life, I have wanted to be called various different names. Each novel I read, each movie I saw, brought on a new phase of “Don’t call me Rachel, call me…”

I think this was mostly influenced by my big sister, who went through the longest time period wanting to be called Molly (I think it had something to do with pirates – or American Girl).

Now that we are older, and the time for name-changing has past, we try to reinvent ourselves in more age appropriate ways. We dye our hair, change our clothes, read new books, write with more confidence (only maybe not) and try to find some kind of vocation that means something to us.

My big sister has flown the coop in search of something not found at home, and I guess it’s my turn to follow in her footsteps, as I have done so many times before. So I guess this blog will chronicle my transition from rebel child to dubiously-qualified adult.

I hope you (even if it’s just you, Alex) will take this ride with me and maybe we’ll come out on the other side a little better off for our trouble.