It's not you, it's me
Wow, I'm coming dangerously close to daily posts. Scary.
So I've had this livejournal for a long time, as evidenced by my username. It was 2003, the guy I was crazy about had just introduced me to Mahler, and I was listening to melodramatic German symphonies all the time. I still think Mahler's an OK guy, but he's not number one on the playlist anymore. My best friend, Adam, started an LJ around the same time I did, then later deleted it, purging his "youthful foolishness" from the internets. I've never been able to do that. I mean, my early posts are all blah blah angst angst MEMES (and I'm not linking to any of them, thank you), and as ridiculous as they are, as embarrassed as I am by many of them, I cannot seem to be able to leave them behind.
Adam has since made another LJ (
thestraymutt), and it's all webcomic link this, funny quote that, so power to him. He also has a blog, and man, oh man, does he love that thing. I've come to think of it as the place where he stores all of his obscure knowledge and interests (and by obscure, I of course mean the things which are completely and utterly foreign and incomprehensible to me). I, however, cling tenaciously to my adolescent angst-filled piece of the internet, thankyouverymuch, and that's that. Apparently.
Anyway, this is all building up to saying that I've made a new blog. I've creatively titled it "Have Degree, Will Travel" (which is pretty much how I feel all the time these days), and its purpose will be to give me an outlet for my bits of random interests and dorkiness. Not that I don't post on such things here, but I'm feeling the need to separate these bits of things which will (hopefully) make up my future from that adolescent past. This is not to say that I won't continue to post here, since I don't intend to drag much (if any) of my personal life into the new site except as how is relates to art, and doors, and retro refrigerators.
In short, LiveJournal, I think we should see other people. God knows you've got TONS of affairs on the side, but let's make it official. It's not you, it's me. Really.
So I've had this livejournal for a long time, as evidenced by my username. It was 2003, the guy I was crazy about had just introduced me to Mahler, and I was listening to melodramatic German symphonies all the time. I still think Mahler's an OK guy, but he's not number one on the playlist anymore. My best friend, Adam, started an LJ around the same time I did, then later deleted it, purging his "youthful foolishness" from the internets. I've never been able to do that. I mean, my early posts are all blah blah angst angst MEMES (and I'm not linking to any of them, thank you), and as ridiculous as they are, as embarrassed as I am by many of them, I cannot seem to be able to leave them behind.
Adam has since made another LJ (
thestraymutt), and it's all webcomic link this, funny quote that, so power to him. He also has a blog, and man, oh man, does he love that thing. I've come to think of it as the place where he stores all of his obscure knowledge and interests (and by obscure, I of course mean the things which are completely and utterly foreign and incomprehensible to me). I, however, cling tenaciously to my adolescent angst-filled piece of the internet, thankyouverymuch, and that's that. Apparently.
Anyway, this is all building up to saying that I've made a new blog. I've creatively titled it "Have Degree, Will Travel" (which is pretty much how I feel all the time these days), and its purpose will be to give me an outlet for my bits of random interests and dorkiness. Not that I don't post on such things here, but I'm feeling the need to separate these bits of things which will (hopefully) make up my future from that adolescent past. This is not to say that I won't continue to post here, since I don't intend to drag much (if any) of my personal life into the new site except as how is relates to art, and doors, and retro refrigerators.
In short, LiveJournal, I think we should see other people. God knows you've got TONS of affairs on the side, but let's make it official. It's not you, it's me. Really.