Hundreds and hundreds of pages, pages for words.

God knows I need another place to write down ramblings. In middle school the Xanga phenomenon hit me just as any other 6th grader. I wrote to nobody in particular, though there were those that occasionally read and commented. Although I still sometimes post angsty teenagery stuff there, it has mostly fallen into retirement, like that of the chia pet and jean jacket.

Today some friends came over, and while Stephanie doodled in her sketchbook and Heidi chatted on the phone with her far-away-Texas-mother, I found my old journals, dating as far back as 2003.

I wrote. A lot.

It's mostly ramblings of a silly girl who wrote what nobody wanted to hear and she didn't feel like telling. From Xanga I moved onto LiveJournal, which was completely privatized, but didn't really include anything of substance. I used it like I used the journals of the past - but I could type these entries.

The point? Maybe this is a more "sophisticated" transcription of my public life. We'll see what happens.