The first words are always hard to find.

This is a record of my physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, lattitude-and-longitudinal, verisimilitude-inal, pardon-me-if-I-intrude-inal life. Two days ago, I turned 25 years old. Two days from now, I will have returned to Ahmedabad, India, my ancestral home.[1] It has been four years since I last visited.

I have chosen to share this space--and my life--with you. You are encouraged to make your presence known, and I look forward to reading your reactions, reflections, and guidance. Moreover, you are encouraged to meet each other. It is my hope that the conversations begun here will continue in your places of residence, on top of mountains, on buses (at a respectful volume, please!), on walks, under rusty ceiling fans, at diner counters, in underground tunnels, in cars, outside unsavory places of employment, within earshot of ukeleles, under the stars, at dinosaur-themed amusement parks, over plates of fried cheese, between stalls in public restrooms, in your graduate-school seminars, and via electronic signals originating from under your bed.[2]

A few last words: Much gratitude to the many friends who have celebrated this summer with me. We have had extraordinary cause for gratitude, celebration, self-criticism, and hope. The world before us is immeasurable, as are the gifts that each of us will leave for it in our lives.

It is, as always, an occasion for first words.

[1] Because of inclement weather in Chicago, my mom and I were not able to leave today. Nevertheless, through indomitable grit and sheer force of will, we shall succeed. More on this later.

[2] This is by no means a complete list, but you get the idea.