I just finished a small chunk of a fairly sizable project…while watching TV, which is one of those things (multitasking!) that I probably shouldn’t be doing. And it’s almost my bedtime and I’ve spent the last 2 1/2 hours with the shiny-bright lights of the TV and the computer, so it’s certainly not going to be easy. I’m hoping that I can wear myself out writing.
Last night I was leaving work on my bike, I got a block out and it started to rain. I didn’t know if it was going to get better or worse, so I headed back and called C to have him pick me & my bike up in the truck. Which was a bit of a bummer, although we did have a nice time going grocery shopping together. And goodness knows I’m thankful that he’s around to come get me, and that we have a vehicle to transport my bike in if need be. (Alternate plan, btw: bring the bike in the building and take the bus home.) This morning it was cloudy, not raining; I eyeballed the sky sceptically, wondering if I could ride. But I had an afternoon appointment, and I didn’t want to chance messing that up. That turned out to be the right choice. It started raining mid-day, at a few points quite hard, and only ever slowed down to a drizzle. Right now the sound of rain on the roof is fighting with my keystrokes for dominance in an otherwise quiet house.
It’s a cozy sound. Actually, they’re both cozy sounds. I have positive emotions connected with typing, especially long bursts of prose.
I found myself poking around old blog entries (fall 2003) while looking for something that Shelley’s recent post reminded me of. (Mmmmm, now that’s an awkward sentence.) I’ve been keeping a diary of one sort or another since 1984 or thereabouts; before junior high school. But this last 6 years is the first time in my life that I had a journal that I could search for or browse like this. At some point several years ago, I started re-reading old paper diaries. I don’t remember why. Maybe I was trying to find a way to archive them. (I have a large Rubbermaid tub full of diaries and letters. It’s VERY heavy.) Anyway, I found it so depressing and painful that I had to stop. I couldn’t read about my feelings from being a preteen and a teenager. (Kermit & Elizabeth are the only two readers of this who’ve known me that long, and who can attest to my…craziness. Kermit, I’m sorry I was such a b*tch when we were 13.)
I didn’t have that reaction reading the old blog entries. Maybe it’s the self-censorship that I exercise in my blog. There’s a lot of pain and drama that I’ve kept walled off from this space, for whatever reasons. Maybe I got lucky with the time I picked. Or heck, maybe I’m just better at seeing my past self(ves) and accepting them/me.
But it was nice; good memories, for the most part. I’m noticing, though, that I used to post a lot of very short entries, just dashing off a quick thought or two. (My current template, with the excerpt/summary at the top, looks really stupid on those. I need to figure out a fix. Round tuit, anyone?) Hmmm, yeah. That sounds sorta familiar.
Also, fall 2003 is when I switched from Blogger (!) to Movable Type (!!!) and when I turned on comments for the first time. Whoa. Time flies when you’re….