On your mark

This is the third or fourth time I've attempted to start a blog and actually keep up with it. This time I've begun after encouragement from a friend. Hopefully, with her continued badgering, I shall accomplish my goal of maintaining this at least throughout my two remaining years of college.
I chose my title, not to be pretentious, but because I hope that's what I am doing now: moving from childhood to adulthood. It is also the title of a poem I wrote my freshman year. I will leave you with those words:

On Becoming an Adult

Nearing 12 AM outside the theater,

Both of us with too much bare skin,

Sam, dressed as Magenta,

Told me in puffs of frosted breath

That gravity weighed more.

That each step reverberated in her frame,

Like the rumbling bass

In the battered seats of her Dodge Neon,

Or muting a hard-struck Zildjian

With a flat palm.

She said it was like the first opening of a book,

Feeling the resistance,

Of the spine not broken in.

Like the first waking stretch

After a long night's sleep.

Like getting glasses

The first time each blade of grass

Comes into focus and being truly amazed

At how even the lawnmower cuts,

But frightened that the ground is so close.

She said it was the way the air

Hangs

Just before it rains:

Damp and heavy, like laundry.

And it was like Tim Curry in drag

At the midnight showing

Of a cult classic, saying,

"Antici–"