*clears throat* For my first post, I would like to address the matter of growing up. When you're a child, all you can dream about it growing up to be a doctor, or a fire-fighter, or having some other awe-inspiring profession. But once you're grown, all you can dream of is being young again.

Which brings me to Peter Pan. Peter Pan, written by Sir James Barrie in 1904. The book is now viewed as a children's story, after being made into numerous movies, one being a Disney film. But in truth, the book is much more of an adult novel. A young boy named Peter Pan, who lives in an imaginary land called Neverland, where he experiences many great adventures fighting pirates and indians and lots of other fun things that everyone here [Yes, even you.] would want to do, if given the chance.

So. I've loved Peter Pan since I was about....six, I'd say, and that's when I saw the Disney adaption of the story. The whole concept of really never growing up amazed me. I spent the next two years waiting for boys to fly into my room. Strange, yes. But out of the ordinary for a six year old? No.

Peter Pan is now one of my favorite summer reading books. Everything seems much more carefree when the sun is out, no? Maybe it's just me, maybe I have....hmm, what is it called? Oh yes, SAD. Seasonal Affective Disorder or something along those lines. Who knows?

Anyways. I saw Peter Pan [the play] last Friday night with my grandfather [Yes, he has a blog! Isn't that cool? Bet your grandpa doesn't have a blog.!] and my Aunt Sarah [No blog here, I'm sorry to say.] and it was amazing. Much better than I expected it to be, having so many high expectations from reading the book over and over. It was Cathy Rigby's last tour playing Peter, so it was all very cool. I even got a signed poster!

Well, I'm all typed out. Maybe next time I'll talk about something other than a fantasy land.....


Doubt it.