There and Back Again

[hp]

    Ever go back and review your very first journal entries?  Turns out I started this journal back in October of 2001, when I was a senior at PHS.  The early journal is rife with sad music, teenager angst-depression, rebellious attitudes, splashes of egoism, and a strangley unbroken yet often incoherent writing style, all couched in an ocean of

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[_no_difference]

Aaron Sharpsteen traveled to Spain and captured the imagination of Europe with his deft antics and quick wit. Learning how to juggle multiple knives, he married the queen of scotland, only to get a divorce and become an heir to an insanely rich Greek shipping mogul.

Aaron Sharpsteen lives out of a box on Mulberry Street. His drunken observations regail the town of Bloomington/Normal whenever there is a full moon. He possesses the power of levitation but has not yet found a way to capitalize on it.

Aaron Sharpsteen lives the most average of average lives. He makes an average wage, lives in an average apartment, and has average friends. Add everything up and divide it by the total, and you have Aaron Sharpsteen and his life.

Ass.

[amazingtomatoes]

my day has now been made even better.

[hp]

What were you thinking when you wrote this!? I like the word choice, sharp and clean. I also like that the the second and third stories are mutually exclusive from the third. Keep up the good work, ass.

[suitebabyblue]

I'm still here, going six years strong. As time goes on, I have an increasingly strange relationship with this journaling tool, one that I try in vain to articulate with some sort of clarity. This journal is literally an extension of myself, but at times, I enter into a dialogue with it, as if it were a separate entity. Sometimes I feel like I gave birth to my journal, like there are strands of *me* breathing life into it but it really constitutes another thing altogether. Like a story with grains of truth.