My emotions are what they are. Do I have to apologise for them? Explain them? I’d like to think that we’re beyond that. Can’t you tell from the way I write, from what I’m writing about? You should be able to, by now, internet. You’re all grown up. Certain things are expected from you. A certain level of sophistication.
This is a different thing then my last journal was, though I don’t want to say that it will be operating in a different dimension, or even a different sphere of thought. It’ll be the same sort of thing, as much as my journal ever was the same sort of thing. I’d like to think that it evolves, that it’s focused on more than just the simple facts of a life, reported and detailed in a linear progression. I’d like to think that, more than anything, this journal, all my journals, might flow, might be more inclined to contain information that swirls around those few reported facts, something considerably fleshier than those skeletal creatures aborted onto the internet half a world over.
More than anything, I need this. I need this to sort through my thoughts. I need this as an outlet for something, for I don’t know what exactly, lots of things really, many things that I’ll be describing. Most of all I need to describe things, to decide what I think about them, how I think about them, put those thoughts into words, paste them on the internet.
I’m not a call-girl, an intern, or a lawyer. This blog isn’t going to be interesting in those ways. My goal on the internet is not to achieve fame, I don’t want my life and career to peak typing out of a little room onto a rectangular screen, hunched back, dark walls, blue against my face. I just want to develop, work out the kinks in my head, rearrange my thoughts and share them with you.