It's around 2am, Saturday morning.  I've been at home all night, mainly doing computer things.  I got al fucking worked up today over yet another mail delivery fiasco, this time with Fed Ex.  I've calmed down somewhat, and I don't feel like getting all work up just about now.  So I'll skip the every so enthralling account.

    Anyway, I was just reading some old journals of mine, this one from 1995-96. I always started one at the beginning of each school year. Anyway, the part I was reading featured my old girlfriend Rebecca prominently.  I'm simultaneously ashamed and impressed with myself as I read over what I wrote.  I was such a pathetic fool.  But perhaps I was a little truer to myself. So maybe I'm more of a pathetic fool now.  There're things I wrote back then that I'd never write now, even just for me.  That's bad.  I think this online journal is the main reason for that.  I censor myself way too much, and I've forgotten how to write in an uncensored way. I mean, there are things that I think about about things with Rodzilla or my other friends that I would never ever write.  I barely even think them. They just sit there on the fringes of my mind, more of a feeling (not to be confused with more THAN a feeling) than a thought really.  But back in those days, of my college days, i was a lot more honest when i was writing just for me.  Now, I read all this shit and it just sounds so fucking cheesy. I'm embarrassed by it.  But maybe i should be more embarrassed for finding it so cheesy.  At least back then, I knew it was total cheese, but I wrote it anyway.

    Anyway, it's weird to think that Rebecca thing meant so much.  I only dated her for less than 3 months really. But that was a long time for the young and foolish.  Many mistakes were made, many stupid things said.  Actually, upon reading the journal, it didn't appear to be as bad as I thought it was.  While I remembered it as this god-awful time, which it was at points, I was surprised to see how lucid I was about the matter at the time.  Because I just remember being a fucking wreck.  But at the time, I was thinking "who the fuck am i kidding?" a lot of the time.  way to go, Past Me.

    God, I can't believe 1996 was four fucking years ago.  But I still remember those memories so vividly. I can remember driving home from Washington and Lee that summer with Geoff in my dad's car, and I remember the conversation I had with Rebecca when I got home.  How fucking depressing.

    Speaking of depressing, yesterday at Great Lakes, my favorite Brooklyn Bar, it dawned on me that i'll b 24 in 2 days.  I've known Jed since we were 18 years old.  I've know him for a quarter of my life.  Mid-life crises at 24 aren't healthy, that much I'm sure of.  Anyway, I'm glad I keep these journals. I get a lot more satisfaction out of reading them sometimes than I do this one.  I enjoy the archival aspects of the online journal, but for straight-up stuff about me and what was going on in my foolish big head, this here pales in comparison. I should really get back to that. i haven't written anything like that i months i think. Well, beddy-bye time.
 

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