(no subject)
Hey, Livejournal. I've seen you around, just thought... well, you know. Harsh last words- and there was that one time recently, we had a moment- I'd like to let you know that I've been seeing someone else.
See- she's just more well-rounded than you, and doesn't circulate everything I say. It feels more exclusive- and that's not necessarily what I'm looking for, don't get me wrong. Maybe you know her? I'm sure you've heard about her through certain channels we won't mention, or seen me with her in the next window over. Yes, you've guessed it, Microsoft Word. I'm sorry, livejournal. Are you okay with this? Good. And hey, it's not like we'll be like this forever. If I get a Mac next year for college, then I can still access you through Safari. I hope, at least, I never see WordPerfect again. Haha! Oh, you too? Oh, that's silly. In a slightly disgusting way, just how people get arou- well, nevermind. You know what I mean.
Well now that we know we aren't necessarily anything anymore, untitular, I want to tell you about this older woman I've met. She's an electric Underwood. Yeah, not too old, but my dad did use HER to write papers at one point in college. That sort of weirds me out at times, but I'm pretty open minded about new ways to write.
So.
Enough of that. Tomorrow will be the height of what Milan Kundera calls 'the unbearable lightness of being', the height of the existance of choice. That is, making it. Seeing what everyone has said about it was fun, but it made me realize how intrinsic I really am, how I can survive fairly well because of it. In burst of self-centeredness, it makes me feel proud. I feel like this is what I've been waiting for for so long to write- it is a humble example of self-edification but truth by itself without all of the beauty that feeds off of it is is simple, harsh and cold. I am grown, and I am comfident. I know that the past is important to any human experience, but I don't want it to shape me any longer. I will become the person I will become, and it will be a more fulfilled one.
I am getting published. It seems very odd to think about. Now I have a small rock to build upon, and I think I will take advantage of it next year.
I have alot to do tonight. Good-night.
See- she's just more well-rounded than you, and doesn't circulate everything I say. It feels more exclusive- and that's not necessarily what I'm looking for, don't get me wrong. Maybe you know her? I'm sure you've heard about her through certain channels we won't mention, or seen me with her in the next window over. Yes, you've guessed it, Microsoft Word. I'm sorry, livejournal. Are you okay with this? Good. And hey, it's not like we'll be like this forever. If I get a Mac next year for college, then I can still access you through Safari. I hope, at least, I never see WordPerfect again. Haha! Oh, you too? Oh, that's silly. In a slightly disgusting way, just how people get arou- well, nevermind. You know what I mean.
Well now that we know we aren't necessarily anything anymore, untitular, I want to tell you about this older woman I've met. She's an electric Underwood. Yeah, not too old, but my dad did use HER to write papers at one point in college. That sort of weirds me out at times, but I'm pretty open minded about new ways to write.
So.
Enough of that. Tomorrow will be the height of what Milan Kundera calls 'the unbearable lightness of being', the height of the existance of choice. That is, making it. Seeing what everyone has said about it was fun, but it made me realize how intrinsic I really am, how I can survive fairly well because of it. In burst of self-centeredness, it makes me feel proud. I feel like this is what I've been waiting for for so long to write- it is a humble example of self-edification but truth by itself without all of the beauty that feeds off of it is is simple, harsh and cold. I am grown, and I am comfident. I know that the past is important to any human experience, but I don't want it to shape me any longer. I will become the person I will become, and it will be a more fulfilled one.
I am getting published. It seems very odd to think about. Now I have a small rock to build upon, and I think I will take advantage of it next year.
I have alot to do tonight. Good-night.