(no subject)
Can't quite sleep and can't quite read...so here I am.
I opened lj up tonight with the idea that I would make a final decision whether or not to just stop using it - I haven't been posting very frequently, nor responding to other's posts very frequently.
I wrote regularly on this thing for two and half years. In that time an active and meaningful correspondences with others came and went, and mostly went, which was occasionally a tad frustrating. Suppose it's akin to our regular humdrum existence, where the same thing takes place - your friends come and your friends go. Lovers come and lovers go. Homes come and homes go. And people's presence on the internet - even on occasion flashes of independently brilliant writing or touching openness or original ideas about life - inevitably fades as life takes them in other directions.
And too I considered that many of the struggles I faced in this journal, struggles for which I received advice from many, may have, along with the due passage of everything else in life, passed onto to other struggles. And I with a vague sense of sadness I thought maybe it was time to move on.
But I read back into my journal and became confused. I saw stories about bad days, about strange dreams, about broken relationships, about confusion and not knowing what to do, about cups of coffee, about staring out the window at thunderstorms, about career and meaning, about impressive books or music, about whimsy, about coffee shops I now miss...in these stories I saw the life I have lived and am living. Hard to not go still have this semi-public place to force you to jourmal thoughtfully.
So now I don't know. Maybe I could rebuild a network of people beyond the current 5-6 friends who are still active, and certainly I could stand to start writing somewhere again - I've stopped writing for myself and probably lost something personally meaningful. I think maybe in all the hustle and bustle to actually learn the psychology here at school and the self-doubt as I took my first faltering steps made me forget other things that were and are meaningful.
I need to write again somewhere.
I'm back to Columbus this coming weekend. Probably shouldn't go, I have a research proposal due that will become the base of a thesis that I'm going to have to work on while in Columbus...but damn. Even after having lost the too new feeling of the place - that not at home feeling - I am still sick of this little town in rural Indiana. I can't wait to be back living in a city - I suspect I wouldn't be able to go to a PhD program in a small place, so if I don't get into a city school PhD I'm just going to work. Anyways, I can't wait to be in Cup'a'Joe and a couple of my old drinking holes - maybe drop by the Dube for a Columbus Pale Ale? I get sappy just thinking about it.
I opened lj up tonight with the idea that I would make a final decision whether or not to just stop using it - I haven't been posting very frequently, nor responding to other's posts very frequently.
I wrote regularly on this thing for two and half years. In that time an active and meaningful correspondences with others came and went, and mostly went, which was occasionally a tad frustrating. Suppose it's akin to our regular humdrum existence, where the same thing takes place - your friends come and your friends go. Lovers come and lovers go. Homes come and homes go. And people's presence on the internet - even on occasion flashes of independently brilliant writing or touching openness or original ideas about life - inevitably fades as life takes them in other directions.
And too I considered that many of the struggles I faced in this journal, struggles for which I received advice from many, may have, along with the due passage of everything else in life, passed onto to other struggles. And I with a vague sense of sadness I thought maybe it was time to move on.
But I read back into my journal and became confused. I saw stories about bad days, about strange dreams, about broken relationships, about confusion and not knowing what to do, about cups of coffee, about staring out the window at thunderstorms, about career and meaning, about impressive books or music, about whimsy, about coffee shops I now miss...in these stories I saw the life I have lived and am living. Hard to not go still have this semi-public place to force you to jourmal thoughtfully.
So now I don't know. Maybe I could rebuild a network of people beyond the current 5-6 friends who are still active, and certainly I could stand to start writing somewhere again - I've stopped writing for myself and probably lost something personally meaningful. I think maybe in all the hustle and bustle to actually learn the psychology here at school and the self-doubt as I took my first faltering steps made me forget other things that were and are meaningful.
I need to write again somewhere.
I'm back to Columbus this coming weekend. Probably shouldn't go, I have a research proposal due that will become the base of a thesis that I'm going to have to work on while in Columbus...but damn. Even after having lost the too new feeling of the place - that not at home feeling - I am still sick of this little town in rural Indiana. I can't wait to be back living in a city - I suspect I wouldn't be able to go to a PhD program in a small place, so if I don't get into a city school PhD I'm just going to work. Anyways, I can't wait to be in Cup'a'Joe and a couple of my old drinking holes - maybe drop by the Dube for a Columbus Pale Ale? I get sappy just thinking about it.