15 III 2002 - 22:33 - vita28

Today - Ides of March. It's gone generally better than I expected, although with two thousand-odd years between the time of Caesar and me, I suppose it's only to be expected. Let's see if I can use the word "expected" until it drops dead from wear.

Or not.

I was reading Bill's diary and got to the part about why Diaryland might be a bad thing. I'm not sure-

for me, it might be a completely transparent way of seeking validation. (Yes, I'll admit to that, so long as you don't make me say that the only reason I keep this up is that.) More often, though, it's a space where I can muse and (if I'm lucky) hit upon something that might be of interest to another. I'd say that it's nice that, with Diaryland, I'm given the chance to respond to other people's thoughts (such as Bill's comment about Diaryland), since I tend to be pretty reticent in person (exception: catch me online, I'll type until my fingers blister. But that's different too, and just as impersonal, really.) Again, it all depends on what one puts into it. I have plenty, I think, which is still hidden, even though I do tend to pour some rather intense feelings into this (like: letting pent-up rage having to do with chamber orchestra flow from me in a wash of electrons. Since it's immediately replaced, it doesn't do much - but it feels good for about ten seconds afterwards.) I think this is much more a placeholder for my thoughts - a framework that really doesn't tell you that much.

I am sometimes pleasant. I have the feeling that I am much more pleasant online than I am in person. I am sometimes intolerable but it depends much on expression and tone of voice and intonation and phrasing, all of which save the last are rather hard to pick up online. When I've decided I like someone I can be rather monomaniacal in the pursuit of friendship which means that often I become repulsive. Even I recognize this which has to say something about how pronounced it is.

I think most of all what this diary does is allow me to wallow in my own terrible traits, to allow me to simultaneously present my best face, the edited one, while attacking the other, the hidden, so that what people will defend is the hidden one for the sake of the better one. This is the rot hiding behind my superstructure; this is what I fear will (has?) consumed me whole.

My consolation is that it is not usual for rotten men to worry if they are of base nature. It is not, however, unknown, and so I must remain vigilant and uncertain.

Every entry I write has a way of turning into this one. Is this a disease of adolescence, one which I may yet get over? Or is it rather some product of my mind alone, child of an insecure, unworthy mind?

Domine, non dignus sum, ut intres sub tectum meum...

Tonight all the worst word-puns are coming out of me because my defenses are down. Things which would normally stay in my head (and rightfully so) go -pop! - like an egg into a glass jar in one of those science experiments I'm sure one of your classes has at some point done.

Go read Dizboy's latest entry. I have nothing more to say, but he (as usual) does.

(I am now talking to him, actually, which makes me feel better. It makes me feel I blow neither hot nor cold although this may not be in truth.)