Hahah, LJ?!
Holy shit.
It's been a while. My LJ is practically unreadable, but that's fine, because nobody reads it anyway, I'll probably not update for another 15 months. :]
I read through a lot of my old bulletins and, god damn, it's crazy stuff. I almost cried thinking of all the good times that I'll never see again, but at the same time, I'm relieved that I'm not that naive and that I know so much more now, and whether things turned out for better or worse, I've turned out alright.
blogblogblog
I don't now, nor have I ever, had a particular interest in blogging as a form of entertainment for others, nor a method of release for myself. I've always been very comfortable with talking to close friends about things, or just keeping it inside, where stupid shit belongs. In fact, the only reason I see me doing this now is for future reference. For being able to look back in so many years and thinking "Wow, that did indeed happen." just as I did when reading back to two years ago. It's a useful tool and that is the purpose it will serve for me, and if you happen to read this, well, that's fine, too. I don't have much to hide and it'll be moreso a collection of thoughts that I deem not so important at the time rather then a keen insight to the past when the future comes.
Gahh, I want a rat really bad. I would name him/her Voltaire and we would be in love.
New Years' Resolution: Be a vegetarian. As of day 4, I've been doing well. :]
I've been really wanting to write a short story or novella lately, but I've struck a rut of sorts. I'd love to write, or rather, to be literal, type, because I can't write very fast or very well or for very long periods of time, for that matter. My hand cramps up and the searing pain blinds me (and my creativity) from being at all productive. I pride myself in being a very fast typer and whatnot, but I also pride myself in hating indoors. I'd much rather write somewhere way the fuck out in the woods or a park or something. And by write, I mean type. Which, you can imagine, is a problem. A laptop seems a simple answer aside from the fact that I don't have one and the only member of my immediate family who does, my mother, would probably sooner nail her hand to her face then let me use it, especially at the park or way out in the woods, where bears could get it.
On a side note, I don't have a girlfriend. My last two can be declared, respectively, an idiot and a psycho, so I'm not complaining about the fact so much as stating it. I'm not looking nor am I not not looking for a girlfriend. If it happens that I meet a cool girl, tight. And if not? Also tight.
Ehh, seeing as how I accidentally went off to Myspace and AIM and forgot I had this up for an hour or so, I lost a lot of time I could have put into writing more facts that nobody but my future self cares to read. I suppose I'll be taking care of that another time then, because I'm really tired now! Going from winter break to school has me proper fucked.
Peace
It's been a while. My LJ is practically unreadable, but that's fine, because nobody reads it anyway, I'll probably not update for another 15 months. :]
I read through a lot of my old bulletins and, god damn, it's crazy stuff. I almost cried thinking of all the good times that I'll never see again, but at the same time, I'm relieved that I'm not that naive and that I know so much more now, and whether things turned out for better or worse, I've turned out alright.
blogblogblog
I don't now, nor have I ever, had a particular interest in blogging as a form of entertainment for others, nor a method of release for myself. I've always been very comfortable with talking to close friends about things, or just keeping it inside, where stupid shit belongs. In fact, the only reason I see me doing this now is for future reference. For being able to look back in so many years and thinking "Wow, that did indeed happen." just as I did when reading back to two years ago. It's a useful tool and that is the purpose it will serve for me, and if you happen to read this, well, that's fine, too. I don't have much to hide and it'll be moreso a collection of thoughts that I deem not so important at the time rather then a keen insight to the past when the future comes.
Gahh, I want a rat really bad. I would name him/her Voltaire and we would be in love.
New Years' Resolution: Be a vegetarian. As of day 4, I've been doing well. :]
I've been really wanting to write a short story or novella lately, but I've struck a rut of sorts. I'd love to write, or rather, to be literal, type, because I can't write very fast or very well or for very long periods of time, for that matter. My hand cramps up and the searing pain blinds me (and my creativity) from being at all productive. I pride myself in being a very fast typer and whatnot, but I also pride myself in hating indoors. I'd much rather write somewhere way the fuck out in the woods or a park or something. And by write, I mean type. Which, you can imagine, is a problem. A laptop seems a simple answer aside from the fact that I don't have one and the only member of my immediate family who does, my mother, would probably sooner nail her hand to her face then let me use it, especially at the park or way out in the woods, where bears could get it.
On a side note, I don't have a girlfriend. My last two can be declared, respectively, an idiot and a psycho, so I'm not complaining about the fact so much as stating it. I'm not looking nor am I not not looking for a girlfriend. If it happens that I meet a cool girl, tight. And if not? Also tight.
Ehh, seeing as how I accidentally went off to Myspace and AIM and forgot I had this up for an hour or so, I lost a lot of time I could have put into writing more facts that nobody but my future self cares to read. I suppose I'll be taking care of that another time then, because I'm really tired now! Going from winter break to school has me proper fucked.
Peace