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Tuesday, December 11, 2001
taken out of context.
A blast from the past, they say.
Hi Forrest, nice to hear from you after all this time. What's it been, a year? Or more? I stopped keeping count, if I ever kept count in the first place.
Now, onto others.
It's been a year since I met Shane, almost two years since I went to California. How many more failed romances can I add to my life? There have been so many, I'm scared to check on any of them.
Falling in love is a yearly occurence for me, apparently. I just can't stay away from it. Shane was 22 when I met him, I was 19. We met, stupidly, online. It wasn't going to be romantic, just a new person to hang out with. But we clicked.
We clicked so well.
Thin, blond, smart, quiet, sweet, why do so many of them add up to each other? Sometimes I miss him too. Usually I don't. I'm too sentimental. I like to remember things that hurt.
Forrest was upset I called him a fuck up. He's at college again now, unlike me. I have grand plans though. I tell myself this. So what if it's really me that's fucking up? Who cares? Not me, I say, not anyone.
I'm going places. I've been places. I'm alive, god fucking damnit, and that's more than I thought I would be at this point and time. Someone give me a medal.
Owen, I don't feel so sad about anymore. Water under the bridge, they say. It's beautiful out today. I should enjoy it.
I should spend more time away from everything. I've begun to forget how nice it is to just live.
So Shane was 22 when I met him, and I celebrated his 23rd birthday with him. It's somewhere in the archives. Good luck finding it.
This entry is veering from the new format. I guess I'm just shaken up. I wasn't expecting to get up this morning to find my father with a migraine in bed - something he's never had before. I wasn't expecting an email from Forrest. I wasn't expecting to be unable to get through to farm sanctuary again. and I'm sick.
And tired.
When I was 18 I took a trip that changed my life and now I have trouble meeting anyone without telling them about it.
When I was young, I had no stories.
Now, sometimes I feel I have too many.
Can you forgive me?
02:56 p.m.

to do.
comics
diesel sweeties.
when I am king.
red meat.
penny arcade.
angst technology.
icecream for breakfast.
lethal doses.
bobbins.
goats
sluggy freelance.
plugin boy.
shaw island.
exploitation now.
c.ulture shocked.
8-bit theatre.
avalon.
life of riley. jeremy.
indie rock pete.
clan of the cats.
college roomies from hell.
cool cat studio.

weblogs
blackcoffee.
waferbaby.
seth.
mike.
japes.
metagrrrl.
eric.
christopher.

other stuff
email me
memepool.
the onion.
explodingdog.
untitled.
seanbaby.
the spark.
fray.
crashspace.