The adventure begins...

Well... here I go! Finally, I am making the jump to enter the blogging world. It has taken me quite a bit of time to start this process. I imagined myself first figuring out who I was as a person, then figuring out who I was a writer before embarking on any thing close to a literary journey. However, 42 years have passed me by and I am no closer to answering either of those questions than I was a long, long time ago. So, I have decided once and for all to fuck trying to figure anything out at the moment and go back to a period when I knew exactly who I was. It was a relatively short time in my life, but important to me none the less, and I cling to the hope that I will find that person once again. So begins the adventure back to me...

My name is Katrina. Friends have always called me Kathy but in my mind I have clearly referred to myself as Pete. I never quite felt like a Katrina or a Kathy or a girl for that matter. I felt like something between. Well, if I am to be honest, not exactly between... I felt like a boy. A very small boy. The name Kathy, however, although girlish by nature did not seem to fool any of my friends into believing that I was a girl. Not for a second. I was certain, in their secret thoughts, that they too knew I was Pete. I was around 7 during this "period of Pete," and I spent a great deal of my time making sure the world around me knew exactly who I was. In fact, I pretty much did everything in my power to guarantee I did not look or behave anything like a girl, and enjoyed every moment I spent proving my point.

It was during one such moment on a fairly ordinary day that I, by modern mom standards, had wandered too far from home. This was not today... this was many yesterdays ago. There I was on the outskirts of my neighborhood standing knee deep in oil black, thick muck. No, not in a lake, or in a pond, or a creek -- I was standing in the drainage ditch along the highway nearest the entrance to my world. I had been warned by my mom to stay clear of this place, but not for my safety, as you might suspect, considering I just mentioned it was a ditch and it was located next to a highway. She only feared this incredible spot because of the warm ink-like muck that had begun to fill my shoes. It was an indescribable substance, and something that when I inevitably went in too deep stained my white cotton underwear a most miserable and permanent gray. This was what she dreaded the most... underwear that looked dirty even when clean. And, although I was a little afraid of my mom, it was rarely enough to keep me from the ditch. The allure of adventure was too powerful and I was in too deep before I thought twice.