Keep it secret
There's nothing shameful about journaling, I don't think.
But try making sounds that even vaguely resemble "el-jay" at a party. You may as well have announced to the room that you spend your nights snuggled in the comforting silicon embrace of your Jessica Simpson blow-up doll while making sweet synthetic love to "Light my Fire." AND that you happen to be wearing a purple buttplug. If you've ever admitted to doing any of those three things at a party, you'll remember those slimy stares that make you feel like you've just been French kissed by a dead sea bass--you'll remember for a long time.
So as you make your way though your journaling path towards El Jay superstardom, it's best that you learn this painful lesson as soon as possible. El Jay, outside the tender womb-like environment of officially sanctioned gatherings, is not a socially acceptable topic for discussion.
"But Sundance!," you protest, tears of unforeseen rejection welling up in your dewy eyes. "Surely you are being too harsh in your assessment of the virtual world and its place in normal regimented society, for it is certainly not a shame to engage in the joys offered by a bound paper journal and is it not--"
At this point, I deftly stem the torrential flood of your ever more agitated words by singing you making a voice post of me singing you something catchy by Carly Simon or The Kinks.
Then, after your weeping subsides, you will realize the truth--as I have. Internet journaling for the internet, our dirty little virtual secret.
But try making sounds that even vaguely resemble "el-jay" at a party. You may as well have announced to the room that you spend your nights snuggled in the comforting silicon embrace of your Jessica Simpson blow-up doll while making sweet synthetic love to "Light my Fire." AND that you happen to be wearing a purple buttplug. If you've ever admitted to doing any of those three things at a party, you'll remember those slimy stares that make you feel like you've just been French kissed by a dead sea bass--you'll remember for a long time.
So as you make your way though your journaling path towards El Jay superstardom, it's best that you learn this painful lesson as soon as possible. El Jay, outside the tender womb-like environment of officially sanctioned gatherings, is not a socially acceptable topic for discussion.
"But Sundance!," you protest, tears of unforeseen rejection welling up in your dewy eyes. "Surely you are being too harsh in your assessment of the virtual world and its place in normal regimented society, for it is certainly not a shame to engage in the joys offered by a bound paper journal and is it not--"
At this point, I deftly stem the torrential flood of your ever more agitated words by singing you making a voice post of me singing you something catchy by Carly Simon or The Kinks.
Then, after your weeping subsides, you will realize the truth--as I have. Internet journaling for the internet, our dirty little virtual secret.