I used to have a terrible journal.
At the time, it felt right, and the concept I had was an ongoing memoir that I could look back on many years later with some degree of insight into how cool or terrible or funny or boring I was. I wanted to feel vaguely acomplished.
As it turned out, I was only the last one.
It was summer of 06/7/something, and I was working a job I was growing increasingly less enchanted with (and quit shortly thereafter for a job I loved and have since left.) I wanted some way to flex creative muscle, to entertain, and also to put something on my mind to words, when it ocurred to me I really didn't like what I was writing in the least. I got really bored, and now I want somewhere to rant at again that doesn't mean subjecting other human beings to mass diatribes when they don't care or don't want to hear it. Ranting isn't conversation, it's getting something off your chest.
So I'm going to stop reinventing the wheel for now and just put things down.
But first: Shopping!
0 spake Zarathustra:
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