The one year in my childhood that was happy, was when I was 10; 1969 when the rest of the world was in utter turmoil, my father chasing after my brother to cut his hippie hair and he running away from home, the Beatles apparently ruining all of society, and political do-gooders getting shot in the back of the head. My father hadn't yet decided that it was a good idea to put us back in the ghetto. We were at Sandlake, Michigan, the true "happiest place on earth" where I went to a school where they didn't try to stab you, a best friend who didn't stab me in the back, and food.

The one thing my best friend and I did was make little paper books. We'd stay up until two a.m. sometimes, drawing and writing these obviously well-plotted tomes. She'd fry me an egg sandwich, which still makes me have a great love of eggs.

Once in the ghetto, I made small magazines for and about my family. I believe my sisters still have some copies which I'll try to dig up and post. I even had scandalous nude centerfolds (Playgirl had just come out); of course I am a Naieva Bookist, and my centerfolds were of cartoon characters with a well-placed book, flower or chair.

When Mary Kovach made these little books the other day, it reminded me of all of this. Her's are much prettier, mine have always been JunkArt mess purely for therapy.

The key to what you want to do in life is what you loved to do at ten years old.

For My YearOfTechnology today, it looks like I've succesfully posted photographs with writing. One day at a time. Plus, I read some other blogs. Of course, D.J. MacHale has movies with his - okay, I'm not going to get intimidated. "Yes, I can. Yes, I can."