Lana feels

If I found my sister's d-land site through a stupid mistake of her own making, is it wrong of me to read it without asking? Moot point, I suppose, since I already have. And through her profile linked to her friends and read their profiles, but not their diaries. It's like foreshadowing for being a parent, looking after this kid. Not preparation, really, because it'll be very different when it's my own kid and more than four years younger than me, but some of the things that happen now make me think of things that will probably happen then. Realizing how much of her I never see and don't know. Realizing how much like me she's becoming. Realizing that my taste in music has rubbed off on her and so onto her friends, and that one of their profiles lists Bitch and Animal as a favorite band. So help me, I've been a bad influence. I'm turning the new wave of quasi-rebellious, angsty adolescents of suburban Chicago into leftist-lesbian-feminist-music listeners. I might actually instill them with a social conscience, at the rate I'm going, possibly even inducing a thought process into their heretofore unsullied minds. But that's just it - they aren't all those cliches. Or more to the point, they are, but they're more than that and so was I a few years ago. It's a miracle how much difference those years can make to my way of looking at them, though. I see her drifting through school and life the way I once did and I want to shake her, make her see that this isn't the way to do things, but I can't. I'm not there, and even if I was she wouldn't listen to me. She has to figure it out for herself, just as we all do at some point. She's turning out so well, all things considered, and I'm so proud of her and I love her so much, but I wish I talked to her more. Such a good li'l Brynnie.