writing from school?

This is me getting up the courage to be writing from a school computer. *shock* *stare* *gaping* Whoa, I know. Well, there’s really no one around right now, so I feel reasonably secure, even though I probably shouldn’t. Oh well. I’m here, I’m typing, life goes on.

It occurs to me that there are people whom I would seriously not mind their reading my diary. Take, for example, Jon (Jared’s friend). I instant message my entries to him all the time these days… he likes reading them, and I don’t mind him reading. I’d let Alex read most of my entries, if he really wanted, and I would let Nolan read most of them too. (Though I must admit I don’t want either of them to know my diary or my name.) As it is I have allowed Aimee, Kim, Meg, Emma, and Ron read my diary. Now I’m allowing Dani to read if she should so choose, though she doesn’t have one herself. Even as I sit here typing Rachel is sitting next to me. But like I said, these are people I trust. I’m not even sure I would have minded Carmen reading my diary way back when, if I had known her, and not been scared of other people finding my diary through hers.

Its odd, how I’ve changed my outlook. As some things in my diary become more personal and I withhold entries from you and most other people, my everyday ramblings seem to want to be read. After all, what is the point of all of these words? All of these records of life, if they’re not read? (For our own memories and our own sorting of thoughts, would be my own answer to my own question.) But at the same time, I believe I have a valid point. Read away, my dear readers.

I am becoming more a writer and less a reader. My free writing is much more than required for English, and my free reading is barely what is required. Don’t get me wrong, I still love reading… during summer I can’t put books down. I love almost every book I read! And yet as my life gets busier, I keep writing time open and neglect to save time for reading. My own diary habits reflect that, I think. As you can see, I’m on another writing kick as of late, but I’ve neglected so many of my fellow diarists. I’ve missed hundreds of entries, I know. And it’s strange to not know what’s happening in your lives. Strange.

I never knew the OD looked so weird on a Mac. I pity those of you who don’t use good old IBM compatibles. Ahh well.

I want to tell stories. But not in the present tense that I am used to writing… rather in past tense, as a story is most comfortably told. Not in a diary format of my day to day life and thoughts, but rather as stories looking back at the events told in my diary. I want to look back and remember and describe everything I remember. The diary is just a trigger. The words trigger the emotions, the memory, the visual, the smell, the feel. Perhaps I will.

I’m approaching 600… doesn’t that seem like an unbelieveable amount of time? 600 entries worth. Goodness…. my life… my soul… you have access to it.