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Tuesday, May. 20, 2003 / 6:52 p.m. ~The Big Nine Aught Aught on the Two Year Anniversary~ Made it. What a long, strange trip it's been. What possessed me? Exhibitionism? Neediness? Looking for love in all the wrong places? Compulsion to document? Desire for social contact without 'true' and 'actual' 'contact'? All of the above, and more, no doubt. And oy, the people I've drawn to me through this! Remember the Wal Mart receipt guy? He read the whole thing! And sent me an email with his phone number, nothing else. There were other emails before that one, but it was that one that we both misunderstood. And the designers, the web designers, the big brouhaha, again with the OY!, the misunderstandings. Constant, and still they continue. There's one now, I'm thinking, and I have no idea what I've done THIS time - I write, I ask, tell me, is it me, did I do something, what did I do, tell me if it's NOT me, and I get nothing. Ah well. Life on the Interweb. My ex, okay, one of my exes, but the first real ex, used to say, "What'd' I do to piss you off THIS time, baaayyyyyyybay?!!!", and it was from something, some movie, "Blues Brothers"?, and it made it all seem so silly, he was bringing a bit of levity, always, hated fighting, but my hot head didn't let things pass until all the steam had exited my brain. I'm not that hard to understand. I used to tell people just to read about Aries, in almost any book on astrology, and you'll learn all you need to figure me out. But they never do, read, they don't want to know, they'd rather misunderstand. And over time I've truly given up on people. I don't give anyone much time at all anymore. But this one I do care about and she'd better assuage my panicky mind soon. I trickled in here, to the land of diaries, on a search. Could've been Google, but I doubt I knew about Google two years ago. Either way, I wanted to see photos of Dave Eggers. I had read, or was reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, thinking Dave and I had more in common than anyone so far, and I had to see what he looked like. I found a page of names, here, at Diaryland, people who listed him as a favorite author. What, what? What was this? I sat and created my own diary and the rest is history. My idea of what this should be, how this should be construed, interpreted, read, perceived, has been a constant subject for debate, argument, disagreement, and that will never change. People love to fight with me. And when they do, I've been known to write about it here, and that's not appreciated either. Granted. I've learned recently that the best way to counter what someone writes about you in her diary is NOT to read it. Just don't go back once you've found it. It works for me. It's two years today, it's 900 entries on every subject, everything I've felt, observed, wanted to get off my little chest, my fingers flying over some keyboard or another, at work, at home, saving to floppy disk (like now) to upload later, just rantings, musings, observations, documentation and heartfelt angst. Really, all in all, after all this time, it's only my diary. Whatever you think, whatever bone you have to pick with me personally (and why in hell would you?), it's just a diary. If you found it in book form, in my room, I'd expect you to put it back down, or leave it sitting once you saw it, but it's here online and you can read it, which is freaky, voyeuristic, performance art in concept, but why harass? Why even read? What compels YOU? To read THIS? You're the freak, I'm just writing. It may stay, it may go away, you can leave, I'll survive. I have a locked journal elsewhere now and that feels really good. It's a bug-y site though, not compatible with Netscape, not really, but it works for me, and I've met people there too, people who seem less inclined to judge me and criticize me. Both sites have their merits, and this is where it started, after Themestream closed, so this will be here for a while - maybe a black screen (!), but I'm not going anywhere. It's been too long in the making for me to give it up now, especially for someone who's just looking for a fight. So, I'm not proud, but I feel accomplished, I feel I've persevered, when many thought I wouldn't. People have come and gone, and one more appears to be leaving me behind, but whatever happens, I still have me, and that's all I really want or need. Cost of the War in Iraq
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Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
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