(no subject)
To explain things seems an ironic twist...
Why do I have this journal anymore? Substantive posts are bare minimal, I don't feel the urge to share my daily life with anyone here really. I opened the journal 7 years ago when dealing with a pandora's box that had inadvertently opened the way so many do: in a romantic entanglement. I've had many entanglements since. I don't feel the urge to purge my thoughts here anymore. I still write, but why do so under the misbelief that the writing is for me? It's not. I write for myself, I think for myself, and the people who I speak to on a daily basis, I get to enjoy the real world back-and-forth. I chat on the phone with friends (occasionally).
7 years later, I'm a completely different person, and this person no longer sees the benefit in keeping a journal online. I just no longer see the benefit in airing my dirty laundry out online where, yes, I do receive a touch of empathy and some well-wishes in response, but ultimately it has no practical purpose. Nothing against those who do blog, but... well, I'm glad to say I feel I have a healthy, wealthy (ironic again) life, a real one. I'm dating frequently, I'm extremely healthy, I'm in command of my own life, I'm far more relaxed and less anxious, and I've lived in NY now.
So, please don't expect any new posts. I have a feeling that this thing is going to languish more and more, now that I am moving to LA. Problems come and go, but I feel I have grown and climbed out of that hole 7 years ago. If you want to know how my life is going, feel free to ask me. Email, call, carrier pigeon, whatever. The charade of a life lived online just doesn't feel like me anymore. If you want to "network" with me on Facebook or call me or something, cool. But, I guess that's it. March 30, 2008.
Finito la commedia. Thus ends the farce...
Why do I have this journal anymore? Substantive posts are bare minimal, I don't feel the urge to share my daily life with anyone here really. I opened the journal 7 years ago when dealing with a pandora's box that had inadvertently opened the way so many do: in a romantic entanglement. I've had many entanglements since. I don't feel the urge to purge my thoughts here anymore. I still write, but why do so under the misbelief that the writing is for me? It's not. I write for myself, I think for myself, and the people who I speak to on a daily basis, I get to enjoy the real world back-and-forth. I chat on the phone with friends (occasionally).
7 years later, I'm a completely different person, and this person no longer sees the benefit in keeping a journal online. I just no longer see the benefit in airing my dirty laundry out online where, yes, I do receive a touch of empathy and some well-wishes in response, but ultimately it has no practical purpose. Nothing against those who do blog, but... well, I'm glad to say I feel I have a healthy, wealthy (ironic again) life, a real one. I'm dating frequently, I'm extremely healthy, I'm in command of my own life, I'm far more relaxed and less anxious, and I've lived in NY now.
So, please don't expect any new posts. I have a feeling that this thing is going to languish more and more, now that I am moving to LA. Problems come and go, but I feel I have grown and climbed out of that hole 7 years ago. If you want to know how my life is going, feel free to ask me. Email, call, carrier pigeon, whatever. The charade of a life lived online just doesn't feel like me anymore. If you want to "network" with me on Facebook or call me or something, cool. But, I guess that's it. March 30, 2008.
Finito la commedia. Thus ends the farce...