no

Writing stuff (online or in other mediums) is so different and far-removed from real life. What is it that I put down or try to convey to the world? Words and feelings and ideas that I don't otherwise ever show or say or tell. This isn't real. I am not who I write. It's not what any friend would ever see or know about me. And yet somehow it is the most real. It is what I think about all day or at night before I go to sleep. It is the sadness I never tell anyone. My worries and fears. Even my silliness. Guess its who I really am. Ahh, but still I have not told you everything. I am afraid of being discovered by someone who knows me, who isn't one of the three people to which I have shown this site (Hi y'all!). But then I guess there are also the trivial things, about which I am not so concerned, that get blown out of proportion because by chance they flitter across my mind when I am here. Like this.

Hmm, dreamt last night about a boy in high school. I realize now that I never really touched him. Lots of flirting and playing, but no kisses. He was a baptist, I was mormon (have I told you Im atheist?), and somehow those things really mattered back then, haha, well at least to him. Wonder where he is. Last I heard he was the student-body president of a big university. Dreamt about him and my best friend in college, the three of us hanging out in an apartment, snow outside. Why is it that I dont (almost never) dream in real time? Always the past. Always high school, in the halls or cafeteria. My (parents') house before the remodel. People I havent seen or talked to in years. Catch up, brain! Somehow it was a bad dream and I woke up at 5 and couldnt get back to sleep.

Stress in my chest today. Very unusual, not since my last test back in march (btw, that test fuckin sucked!). Another $390 on my car. I guess I am lucky that this feeling is unusual, and not constant like it has been in different classes and jobs and relationships. It is small, and I will be fine. I can pay for the car. I can teach a student. My boy-thirst has slackened, for now.

Do you know when you write something, but its just how youre feeling and not so much the start of a conversation. I love the randomness here, when you know someone and it doesnt have to be about the subject addressed today. Maybe I just feel that these words are small, like my emotions (now theres some ex-bf baggage, for ya!), and chatting is bigger and more fun. I could ramble on and on. I feel like long-winded stories.



Did I get them in the right order? I bet it goes , / , , evolutionarily.

And then , , , and then .

Or is it and then ?



(Hmm, even here I can't really tell you.)