I scoff at your outdated forms of Internet communication.
We're coming up on the eight year anniversary of thee mighty LJ, and I am celebrating it by mass-protecting the vast majority of the entries on here. Why? Because that was then, and this is now. Oh, and neither you nor I need to hear about what my day was like on, say, September 2, 2002. I'll give you a hint, though: I was 20 years old, and I am pretty sure I was having my usual daily panic attack about boys or how my life sucks or something combining the two. Like I said, you don't want to know.
Then, we used things like "AOL Instant Messenger" and "dialup" and "animated GIFs" to illustrate our journal entries. We had "Geocities" pages and painstakingly typed out the artist and title of every single CD we owned, formatted it in HTML and gave it a fetching neon green on black layout, a la "The Matrix." Or perhaps that was just me. But I digress.
Now we Twitter and Facebook and Last.fm and we text message constantly, and we use blogspot instead of, for example, the increasingly obsolete site you're currently looking at. And we certainly don't have daily panic attacks, especially since we're with the Best Boyfriend Ever (TM). Now, we just get pissed off if we have to wait for our espresso, or if all the stair steppers are full at the gym. Being a grownup is pretty awesome.
Don't worry, though. I'm still a fiend for rock n' roll, I still write like it's my job (because it is), I'm still a raging leftist feminist, and I still muse insignificant for your momentary pleasure. Some things will never change. I promise.
Then, we used things like "AOL Instant Messenger" and "dialup" and "animated GIFs" to illustrate our journal entries. We had "Geocities" pages and painstakingly typed out the artist and title of every single CD we owned, formatted it in HTML and gave it a fetching neon green on black layout, a la "The Matrix." Or perhaps that was just me. But I digress.
Now we Twitter and Facebook and Last.fm and we text message constantly, and we use blogspot instead of, for example, the increasingly obsolete site you're currently looking at. And we certainly don't have daily panic attacks, especially since we're with the Best Boyfriend Ever (TM). Now, we just get pissed off if we have to wait for our espresso, or if all the stair steppers are full at the gym. Being a grownup is pretty awesome.
Don't worry, though. I'm still a fiend for rock n' roll, I still write like it's my job (because it is), I'm still a raging leftist feminist, and I still muse insignificant for your momentary pleasure. Some things will never change. I promise.