Funny how that works.
"So.
A Live Journal.
I don't know. Somewhere to rant. Or think. Stream of consciousness stuff."
Apparently, I said that. Or maybe just part of that. I'm not sure, I don't remember. I'm just taking Matt's word for it. I suppose this somehow reveals hypocrisy within myself considering I hardly use this whenever I need to rant or think or generally stream my consciousness out...but honestly? I'm not too phased.
I went shopping today with Katie. It was nostalgic as hell, except I actually bought stuff and didn't try on a ton of stuff I could never afford and whatnot. I got four shirts.
We went back to her house afterwards. That was also nostalgic as hell. We ended up going through all these old photos and then parts of her diary, which of course made me want to find all my old diaries after I got home. Just finished skimming them. It's funny 'cause some things I read and can't help but think, "God, I was completely idiotic back then." But then other parts...well, things are sort of in the same place. I'm not sure if that implies that I'm still completely idiotic. I guess I could be. The stuff I wrote about my family when I was thirteen still pretty much holds true today. I'm still not the smartest when it comes to guys. So what's that mean, that I've remained static for the past seven-ish years? Fantastic.
In a way, I haven't changed at all. And yet...all that seems so long ago that when I think about it that it's almost like watching someone else's memories. Surreal.
Not all my entries were depressing, though. Some of them actually made me smile when I read them 'cause they were so...pure, I guess. I'd write in detail about the tiniest things that meant the world to me at the time, and still make me smile and feel content remembering them. Like at Katie's fourteenth birthday party. We'd gone outside; it was cool and clear out. We lay out on the lawn, Jonathan put his arms around me, and I put my head on his chest, and I just lay there with him, listening to his heart beat. "It was perfect," I wrote. I still think so. It's a good memory, and a strong one. And I know it's sort of dumb. But I think the image is cute. And I think the contentment I felt during those, what, ten minutes? I think that contentment was real, and why not hold onto that?
I left a lot of stuff out of my diaries though -- gaping holes that would be summarized in a sentence or two in the next entry, right after "Sorry I haven't written in so long," but right before "So, here's what's up now..." I left out major things, and I'm not sure why. I suppose when exciting things are going on, sitting down and writing in a diary doesn't take first priority, so maybe that's why. But I suppose the side of me that loves drama thinks it's something a bit more...subconsciously purposeful. Almost sinister, in some skewed sense of the word. Like a subconscious plot to erase things from my memory except obviously it's not working if I can still remember what's supposed to go in the aforementioned gaping holes. Then again, it's only been a few years, and in a way, it IS already working. My memory tends to go fuzzy rather quickly, and I dream and daydream so vividly that sometimes it's a bit difficult to separate reality and unreality from each other in the present, and considerably moreso in the past.
I have a ton more to say, but, yet again, I get the distinct feeling that I've already rambled about nothing for far too long, it's getting late, and therefore, perhaps it's time to stop. I'm sure, given that you obviously made it this far down this rather long entry, that you wholeheartedly agree.
One thing I want to make clear though: this isn't a rant. More of just the thinking and stream of consciousness stuff. Observations from my little nostalgia day, and their resultant contemplation, you get the idea.
Anyway, maybe I'll continue this later.
A Live Journal.
I don't know. Somewhere to rant. Or think. Stream of consciousness stuff."
Apparently, I said that. Or maybe just part of that. I'm not sure, I don't remember. I'm just taking Matt's word for it. I suppose this somehow reveals hypocrisy within myself considering I hardly use this whenever I need to rant or think or generally stream my consciousness out...but honestly? I'm not too phased.
I went shopping today with Katie. It was nostalgic as hell, except I actually bought stuff and didn't try on a ton of stuff I could never afford and whatnot. I got four shirts.
We went back to her house afterwards. That was also nostalgic as hell. We ended up going through all these old photos and then parts of her diary, which of course made me want to find all my old diaries after I got home. Just finished skimming them. It's funny 'cause some things I read and can't help but think, "God, I was completely idiotic back then." But then other parts...well, things are sort of in the same place. I'm not sure if that implies that I'm still completely idiotic. I guess I could be. The stuff I wrote about my family when I was thirteen still pretty much holds true today. I'm still not the smartest when it comes to guys. So what's that mean, that I've remained static for the past seven-ish years? Fantastic.
In a way, I haven't changed at all. And yet...all that seems so long ago that when I think about it that it's almost like watching someone else's memories. Surreal.
Not all my entries were depressing, though. Some of them actually made me smile when I read them 'cause they were so...pure, I guess. I'd write in detail about the tiniest things that meant the world to me at the time, and still make me smile and feel content remembering them. Like at Katie's fourteenth birthday party. We'd gone outside; it was cool and clear out. We lay out on the lawn, Jonathan put his arms around me, and I put my head on his chest, and I just lay there with him, listening to his heart beat. "It was perfect," I wrote. I still think so. It's a good memory, and a strong one. And I know it's sort of dumb. But I think the image is cute. And I think the contentment I felt during those, what, ten minutes? I think that contentment was real, and why not hold onto that?
I left a lot of stuff out of my diaries though -- gaping holes that would be summarized in a sentence or two in the next entry, right after "Sorry I haven't written in so long," but right before "So, here's what's up now..." I left out major things, and I'm not sure why. I suppose when exciting things are going on, sitting down and writing in a diary doesn't take first priority, so maybe that's why. But I suppose the side of me that loves drama thinks it's something a bit more...subconsciously purposeful. Almost sinister, in some skewed sense of the word. Like a subconscious plot to erase things from my memory except obviously it's not working if I can still remember what's supposed to go in the aforementioned gaping holes. Then again, it's only been a few years, and in a way, it IS already working. My memory tends to go fuzzy rather quickly, and I dream and daydream so vividly that sometimes it's a bit difficult to separate reality and unreality from each other in the present, and considerably moreso in the past.
I have a ton more to say, but, yet again, I get the distinct feeling that I've already rambled about nothing for far too long, it's getting late, and therefore, perhaps it's time to stop. I'm sure, given that you obviously made it this far down this rather long entry, that you wholeheartedly agree.
One thing I want to make clear though: this isn't a rant. More of just the thinking and stream of consciousness stuff. Observations from my little nostalgia day, and their resultant contemplation, you get the idea.
Anyway, maybe I'll continue this later.