Pittsford, New York

That is my current location. Actually, no, Penn Yan, New York is my current location. The party for Phil's 80th birthday just ended, even though his actual birthday isn't until September. I really can't type at all, it's pathetic. I am determined to meet someone here, preferably of the male species. Also, preferably, someone cute? I just want something to make this trip memorable. I don't need to meet anyone to remember it, of course, but it would be nice. I'm in New York, after all. The lake (we're at Phil's lake house, in Penn Yan) is absolutely beautiful. Actually, it's just a lake. It's not that spectacular. It was overcast today, and pretty cold. I have to sleep in a loft, which I have to climb up a ladder to get to. It's terrible.. I don't like heights. I spent most of my afternoon with my Aunt Jasmine, because we are so alike. I'm well over a foot taller than my Gramma, which is... funny. They are all cleaning up after Phil's birthday thing, you'd be surprised at the mess a bunch of martini-drinking old people can make. I should probably help, but no one has bothered me yet. I hear Phil's daughter absolutely hates Gramma. No clue why. They won't tell me what she did, but my mom secretly told me that she accused Phil of "marrying a midget for sex". God she's so psycho. I don't want anyone to know I know that. They went out of their way to make sure I didn't know... But I think I'm old enough to handle someone saying that, but Gramma wouldn't want to expose me to anything too vulgar. Of course not. We're talking about eating dinner on the boat on Tuesday. I'm writing again! I started on the plane. I'm really determined to go somewhere with this story, even though I doubt it will make sense. I mean, it will make sense, but I'm terrible at piecing things together. Nothing ever makes sense.
I was thinking today in the car about myself. The drive to Penn Yan is beautiful. It's al cornfields and grass and small towns and farmhouses. I imagine myself there. I can imagine myself there. I want to live somewhere small. New York City will always be my favorite place in the world, but I'll never afford to live there. My parents just left for some walk along the lakeside. People will start to realize that I'm not talking, just "hacking away at the keyboard as my dad says. Hacking? No clue where that came from, as I'm not hacking or anything of the sort. I like the sound of my fingers on the keyboard. It's so soothing. Tick tock tick tock. The only sound in the room in the clock. Phil is a quiet man. Jasmine is so much like me. I can't even explain why, she just is. It's uncanny. Normal conversation is so annoying. I want to be old, and retire in a lake house, and know everyone on my street and be able to laugh about the "good ole days". I want smile lines and crinkly skin, gray hair too. To sit, and smile without reason. Being old is such an excuse for acting senile for no reason. I'll do that too.
I don't think I will ever be able to look in the mirror without beating myself up. It's not like I'm going to go off on a tangent, whining about myself is so annoying when I read it later. I just don't think I will. My gramma fell earlier today, on her hip. We're supposed to go swimming in the lake tomorrow, because it will be warm. Supposedly.
I finished Breaking Dawn last night, and was dissapointed. That's all I have to say for now, Gramma wants me. Goodnight, everyone.