My LJ is 4 years old
It's pretty wild. I was just looking over old posts and trying to remember things and it was just this time four years ago that I started to have my LJ account.
harliquinn and
jazzmasterson were the first people i knew to have such a thing as a "live journal" and
cad_red_ducati was the first person in my family to join. What an interesting thing....I still think of it as "new" in my life but really it's not.
In any event, I have been wildly, frabjously productive this weekend. It feels really good to have set myself these goals and to have accomplished them. Ok, that's all for now.
Remember: Not as helpless as some
also: I am poor in the essence of happiness, lady -- rich only in never-ending unrest. In me there meet a combination of antithetical elements which are at eternal war with one another. Driven hither by objective influences -- thither by subjective emotions -- wafted one moment into blazing day, by mocking hope -- plunged the next into the Cimmerian darkness of tangible despair, I am but a living ganglion of irreconcilable antagonisms. I hope I make myself clear, lady?
And: I believe my grandmother might have been pleased that in the days spent looking after her belongings the book I was toting along was Camus' "The Plague". I read it the first time in High School and it is a piece that I can connect with much more now.
harliquinn and
jazzmasterson were the first people i knew to have such a thing as a "live journal" and
cad_red_ducati was the first person in my family to join. What an interesting thing....I still think of it as "new" in my life but really it's not.
In any event, I have been wildly, frabjously productive this weekend. It feels really good to have set myself these goals and to have accomplished them. Ok, that's all for now.
Remember: Not as helpless as some
also: I am poor in the essence of happiness, lady -- rich only in never-ending unrest. In me there meet a combination of antithetical elements which are at eternal war with one another. Driven hither by objective influences -- thither by subjective emotions -- wafted one moment into blazing day, by mocking hope -- plunged the next into the Cimmerian darkness of tangible despair, I am but a living ganglion of irreconcilable antagonisms. I hope I make myself clear, lady?
And: I believe my grandmother might have been pleased that in the days spent looking after her belongings the book I was toting along was Camus' "The Plague". I read it the first time in High School and it is a piece that I can connect with much more now.