Am I back? I just don't know. (An Introspective update)
The other day, in a fit of pure boredom which is just odd because, at the moment, I have far too much going on to even pretend I should be allowed idle time I logged into livejournal. Then I checked my friends list. This isn't the first time I had checked the list, mind you, since I left, it's just the first time I had checked the list while logged in.
It was odd.
I was filled with this deep sense of nostalgia tempered only by a mixture of shame and embarrassment. Something like, "Oh, I miss that... or... I can't believe I didn't make a better effort to remain friends with -insert name of journal I can't find on friends page now-" ... or... Holy Jesus, why was I in that community?! I went to the page where one manages their friends list and started removing people; kind of. Being me, I had to find a method so that, if things start to look weird, I can say, "Hesh, there's a method to my madness."
I opted on removing friends that I was no longer mutual friends with and then removing the communities I didn't understand why I had joined in the first place or couldn't fathom why I'd speak to them again.
As I removed people and comms, I found myself noticing how I had changed since the last time I was on livejournal. First of all, and the most obvious difference, friends list wise, is the fact that I'm not, in any way, shape or form, still in the HP fandom. I don't recreationally read or create HP fanfics anymore. To be honest, I don't read or create any fandoms fanfics anymore.
I don't read romance stories anymore. My taste for the genre died the same night I drunkenly lost my virginity to someone who only spoke to me once afterwards and said conversation was two sentences long and only because he was worried about any potential fetal parasites he may have given me. The actual story is funnier and more tragic than that run-on sentence.
Let's see... I'm more involved in poetry than I ever have been before. I'm including my entire literary life in that sentence. I gave up fiction awhile ago, sans a few exceptions, because I found myself unable to follow imaginary worlds I didn't create and, at the time and since then, I've been in school or studying for school so the fact that I could only comprehend non-fiction suited me. I randomly got a poetry book from Barnes and Noble a few months back and have all but turned my back on prose entirely.
I am the queen of run-ons today. Though I think, due to boring rules of punctuation that I'm more than willing to hide behind, most of those are complex sentences. Complex sentences only look like run-ons.
Where was I?
This coming back to a woefully neglected journal that was once the center of my being, social life and almost the only place in the world where I had unabashed love and acceptance is sending me into spirals of second guessing myself, self-doubt and wondering who I've hurt in the past with my idle, yet oddly caring, negligence.
Either way, if you remember me, comment! If you don't remember me, that is, don't worry, I don't remember you either.
It was odd.
I was filled with this deep sense of nostalgia tempered only by a mixture of shame and embarrassment. Something like, "Oh, I miss that... or... I can't believe I didn't make a better effort to remain friends with -insert name of journal I can't find on friends page now-" ... or... Holy Jesus, why was I in that community?! I went to the page where one manages their friends list and started removing people; kind of. Being me, I had to find a method so that, if things start to look weird, I can say, "Hesh, there's a method to my madness."
I opted on removing friends that I was no longer mutual friends with and then removing the communities I didn't understand why I had joined in the first place or couldn't fathom why I'd speak to them again.
As I removed people and comms, I found myself noticing how I had changed since the last time I was on livejournal. First of all, and the most obvious difference, friends list wise, is the fact that I'm not, in any way, shape or form, still in the HP fandom. I don't recreationally read or create HP fanfics anymore. To be honest, I don't read or create any fandoms fanfics anymore.
I don't read romance stories anymore. My taste for the genre died the same night I drunkenly lost my virginity to someone who only spoke to me once afterwards and said conversation was two sentences long and only because he was worried about any potential fetal parasites he may have given me. The actual story is funnier and more tragic than that run-on sentence.
Let's see... I'm more involved in poetry than I ever have been before. I'm including my entire literary life in that sentence. I gave up fiction awhile ago, sans a few exceptions, because I found myself unable to follow imaginary worlds I didn't create and, at the time and since then, I've been in school or studying for school so the fact that I could only comprehend non-fiction suited me. I randomly got a poetry book from Barnes and Noble a few months back and have all but turned my back on prose entirely.
I am the queen of run-ons today. Though I think, due to boring rules of punctuation that I'm more than willing to hide behind, most of those are complex sentences. Complex sentences only look like run-ons.
Where was I?
This coming back to a woefully neglected journal that was once the center of my being, social life and almost the only place in the world where I had unabashed love and acceptance is sending me into spirals of second guessing myself, self-doubt and wondering who I've hurt in the past with my idle, yet oddly caring, negligence.
Either way, if you remember me, comment! If you don't remember me, that is, don't worry, I don't remember you either.