Monday, June 2, 2003
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quote du jour:
"I have to know everything. It wasn't my first word as a kid... but I'm sure "why" was somewhere near the top. Even as a toddler learning to speak, I never took anything at face value. I had to know more. I was curious about everything and I never grew out of that stage. I know there is almost always more than meets the eye... and I know that some people have a problem with honesty... and so I usually want to figure everything out for myself." -- Thomas Fletcher, first journal entry.
        
Three years.

That's 1,095 days... Or 26,280 hours... Or 1,576,800 minutes... Or, if you really want to break it down, roughly 9.4 million seconds.

And, as of today, it's how long I've kept this journal.

I tried many times throughout my life at keeping a journal but never succeeded. I still have most of my attempts stored away either in boxes at my mom's house or on floppy disks I couldn't possibly locate if I had to.

My first attempt came in early elementary school. It was in that journal that I chronicled getting glasses, the explosion of the space shuttle Challenger, me needing braces and the sudden death of my dentist. I now wear contacts. Columbia blew up, too. I still don't have braces but I promise my dentist's dying had nothing to do with my orthodontics deficiencies. ("Dear God, look at those crooked death! I suddenly don't feel so good!")

I tried again in 1993 and 1994. I'm not sure why I didn't succeed then. It certainly wasn't for a lack of material. My mom's mother was sick for most of 1993. At age 15, I was sort of forced to grow up suddenly and assume more responsibilities around the house. After all, my old man was long since gone. Grandma died in January 1994, and that year sort of saw me come of age.

The last gift she bought me was a 1989 Ford Ranger -- my first ride. I went to Space Academy that year. I dated a girl name Megan Adams and that was the first relationship I officially fucked up with poor communication. I was a lifeguard. I got my first newspaper job. I totalled that 1989 Ford Ranger on July 31st, breaking my brother's arm in the process. I learned to live life without someone very important to me -- my grandmother. I started to deem school as a waste of my time. I was promoted from typesetter to sports writer. I started taking photographs. I wrote about a lot of these experiences... and then, for some reason, stopped.

The final failed attempt came in either December 1999 or January 2000 -- most likely the latter. I laid down one night in my bed at my mom's house... lost between a girlfriend (Lindsey) that said she loved me and a best friend (Jessie) that was pretty convinced that she loved me more. I filled damn near a dozen notebook pages with what was on my mind that night. I found those sheets the other day while cleaning up my apartment. I didn't quite have the patience to read them, but I'm sure they're entertaining.

In the spring of 2000, I discovered the world of online journals. I stumbled across the journal of a law student name Melissa. I'd never seen anyone pour out their inner thoughts to the world quite like that. I was instantly hooked on not so much reading them as I was the desire to put together my own.

So, on June 2nd of 2000, I sat down at the very desk I'm at now and put together entry #1. That entry as since been joined by 283 others (counting today's) and numerous LiveJournal posts to form not only a chronicle of my life... but to actually become a big part of my life. Granted, you wouldn't know it by the frequency of my updates, but everything that happens to me is stored away as a possible entry in the journal. I just wish I'd written more of those events down as the more you read, the better you understand who I am.

When I found myself without the time or the inspiration to update Deadline Pressure this spring, I could feel myself grow stressful. In the week since I resumed posting here, I've felt more relaxed than I have in a while. I need a place to not only drain my brain, but to do it in writing. I've never claimed to be good at writing, but I certainly know that I enjoy it. This journal has proven that to me.

Thanks for being here and being a part of it.
I hope you tell others and then come back for more yourself.

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Copyright © 2003, Thomas Fletcher. All Rights Reserved.