In which we talk about someone who is way cooler than me.

This is my sister Matisse. (The one wearing reindeer horns)

We've talked about her on here before, but I would just like to say that my sister is the smartest, wittiest, Dostoevsky lover-ist person I know.

And that's not even an exaggeration either.

Sure, she writes a genius blog on which she sometimes mentions her accomplishments like getting into the graphic design probram, getting paid to go to Russia for a semester, or talks about our cat, Coldplay, or her Honda Civic Turbo. But I am here to tell you people that you don't even know the half of it. Probably not even the smallest fraction.

You don't know about the conversations we have where we discuss Gotham and Didot, or geeky inside jokes we like to make last forever. You don't see our deeply complex negotiations over clothing sharing or those times when we recline the seats in the car and discuss our woes. You don't know the clever nicknames we give things (nor will you ever) or the times we talk about the future.

But you don't have to just take my word for it—just meet the kid and she'll spew some awesomeness for you.

The passion that fills this girl's soul is something that most people don't really comprehend. Sometimes it consumes her, but always it drives her to be great. Some people would look at her and think, "Wow, she's so lucky!" But luck has got nothing to do with it. She's worked so hard for all of those good things. (Except me of course, I was a gift from Heaven) She doesn't always succeed, but she always comes back even stronger.

There is no one else in this universe that could be a better sister to me.