The unthinkable has already happened: I've become self-conscious in my entries here. Perhaps it's the other members of LJ whose lives read so much more amusingly than my own, recently. In amongst all these conversations with trusty buses and political manifestoes, are my small pleasures and insecurities worth a careful read? I find myself
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love,
jay
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And when were you at Purchase? I was there 1982-83 (long story).
As far as money issues, who doesn't have them? It's a rough economy right now. Hang in there.
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I was at Purchase from Fall '93 to Spring '97. I heard wonderful stories of 80's Purchase . . . how there was just one token heterosexual couple, and how people would routinely wander cross-campus in the nude.
*checks Tikvah's journal*
Hey, I know you! Hiya!
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But perhaps it would be interesting to think about why you care how many people reply to your livejournal. Because there's also a quality vs quantity thing, and it seems like the comments on this item, at least, involve actual paragraphs of content, and I tend to assume that a typical 30 comment livejournal item is going to be mostly useless one-liners.
Does this general sense of being antisocial also preclude spending time with an individual? My experience tends to be that the quality of conversations I have with people is usually indirectly proportional to the number of people present. (Rough translation: fewer people lead to better conversations.)
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I have been considering hosting a small gathering in January sometime. I know my general misanthropy will pass, and I'll draw up a guest list when it does.
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