I was insane back then too...

So today while hanging out at my parents' house using their washer and dryer because I feel it's my duty as their child to mooch off of them, I was digging through a box of my old stuff they have so willingly been storing in their basement (again, Julie=mooch). I was actually looking for some sheet music...but then I stumbled across a little blue notebook. I stared at it blankly, remembering writing in it but not remembering what I'd written or why. So I abandoned my sheet music quest and cozied up on the couch for what I hoped would be a good read. The first entry goes a little something like this:

After reading Peter's "notebook of thought," I told him it's healthy to write down one's thoughts and ideas like he's been doing. He suggested that I try it for myself. Why not, right? Hopefully this will be a good means of unscrambling all that goes through my head and help me make sense of it. We'll see how this turns out.

Sweeeeeet, I blogged (well, minus the computer) before I even knew what blogging is! Go me. Most of the entries are the rantings of a selfish 19-year old trying to figure out her place in the world and wondering why life is so hard while dealing with things way over her head. But it's interesting to remember those emotions and experiences, although many of the things I wrote about I can't recall--in an effort to make it strictly about thoughts and not a journal entry, I never wrote any dates and rarely used names--but I do know I started it during my first semester of college, which was fall of 2000. I've decided to post some entries here so you all can have a glimpse into my brain, uncensored.

I like rain. I like the thunder, and lightning really is one of nature's best fireworks. I like the feel of rain, the look of rain, and the smell of rain before, during and after the storm. It's pleasant and cleansing. I'm amazed at how captivated I am by it. I can stand most anyplace and watch the rain for hours. How swiftly it passes though...usually only lasting for minutes at a time, which makes watching it for hours slightly difficult, if you know what I mean.

Conflict is a funny thing. The way something that may seem minimal can absorb an individual's life and become their focus whether they want it to or not...seems stupid to everyone except those involved. Then there are one-sided conflicts; those are the worst. When one person views something as a problem and another sees it as nothing. Is the upset party being over-emotional or is the ignorant party being insensitive? I think it's situational, but to compromise I'm going to say it's both. I think it all comes down to communication. As I told someone today, "Communication is a vital key to any kind of relationship. Without it, you're screwed." I like it...makes my point AND serves as comic relief.

The hall of flags: nice spot to study during your break, or primo meat market for the lustful, lonely and desperate to pass their time by "checking out chicks?" It disgusts me.

Passion is freakin' powerful. It's why poets write sonnets. I'm not going to write a sonnet. Being emotionally involved is taking such an extreme risk on yourself. It can feel so great but it hurts more than anything when you lose. And I'm not talking only about relationships. The concept applies to everything in one way or another, so why get involved for the temporary high only to be crushed by the big let down at the end?

I wish I always had the energy and love for life that possessed me tonight. I haven't been like that in so long. So I'm in a good mood but I'm almost crying (blast we females and our stupid emotions). I need french fries.

"I won't weigh you down with good intention." -Sarah McLachlan
I am not bitter I am not bitter I am not bitter. Although the more I look at it, the more I realize I have every right to be. However, bitterness only causes decay, and I really can't afford that.

Feelings are so very complicated; they ruin everything. And yet, without them life just wouldn't be life and everyone knows that. I just hate not being able to interpret them, especially when they're my own. I suppose the most difficult feelings to interpret would be one's own, but still...it's frustrating. I don't know what or even how I feel. I hate that. It leaves me directionless, and we all know how much I dislike wandering. To feeling nothing would truly make life so much more simple. I've resolved that at this particular time, I'm going to feel as little as I can of select emotions. Some would argue that I'm depriving myself of valuable experiences, but I don't see it that way. As far as I know, I have plenty of time to "feel." This should be interesting.

Only when you remove yourself from the problem can it be observed objectively and then resolved. Or at least that's how it works some of the time. There's not a set standard. Exceptions bite...they're like lipids: no matter what you do, they're always there. Ok, that was really lame. So much for my attempt at clever similes.

So there you have it....excerpts from my first blog. Hooray for trips down memory lane. :-)