Friday, October 8, 2004
quote du jour:
"So let's send up a prayer for this love that we share 'cause it could change in a blink of an eye. No, you just never know how tomorrow will go. So, let's make sure we kiss goodbye." -- Vince Gill, "Let's Make Sure We Kiss Goodbye"

I hadn't been finished with yesterday's entry for very long when Yahoo! Messenger alerted me to a new message in my box. It was from a Cingular cell phone with the same area code as Alex. For a moment, I was excited.

Alex and I haven't really been very good friends lately. On several occasions in the past few months, she has told me that she doesn't want to be friends with me. She still objects to my decision in the spring that we shouldn't date. She says that I never gave the idea of us as a couple a chance. She is probably right. So, as much as it hurts me for us not to be close, I understand her reasoning.

For some reason, she has been on my mind quite a bit. Last weekend, I even had an odd dream about her. I sent her an e-mail Tuesday to share the dream and just to check in. I haven't heard back from her. The text message was from someone else.

I miss her.


I thought I would check in with you... Say hi... And make sure you were okay.

I had a dream about you and I've been thinking about you since. In the dream, you were in the hospital and it seemed as though you'd been there for a little while. I came to visit and you got up from your bed and gave me a hug. It felt crazy real. Of course, although you were in the hospital, I distinctly remember you being dressed very nicely. It was a sweater and jeans, I think. That figures. No open-backed hospital gown for you.

There were quite a few folks there in your hospital room -- mostly your family, I think. And while I was there, there was supposed to be some sort of eclipse where the moon appeared and the sun ran behind it. Most of us in the room went over to the window to watch... and we all seemed impressed, I guess... but it never got dark in the dream.

The odd thing about the dream... Or maybe not with the way I've been lately... Is that most of your family wouldn't talk to me. Hrm.

Anyhow. That's the weird report from Franklin... and strange dreams are about all I've got going for me right now. I've gotta work in the morning, so I think I'm heading to bed. Hope to talk to you soon.


Over the past few months, I've probably needed to write here more than I have in some time. I've had (and still have) quite a few things bouncing around in my head -- relationships, commitment, moving, finances, work, people who steal my shit, etc. I've really needed a place to write things out as I did back in the early days of Deadline Pressure. Of course, it's obvious both here and in my head that I haven't done much of that.

Why? Well, the easy answer is that I'm being read. The more complicated answer involves who's reading me, how I feel about it and whether or not I give a damn. For the record, I'm still formalizing the complicated answer.

Alex has known about the journal for quite a while. When I was still in college, David found the Web address, read a while and then shared one or two of my more poorly written entries with her. Earlier this year, Alex told me that David still drops in from time to time. She also said that secretary in the Department of Mass Communications at Oakdale has read an entry or two. I'm not worried about David. It's the rest of the world knowing about the site that concerns me just a bit.

In the beginning, I was 99.9% anonymous. To my knowledge, there was only one person who read the journal that knew my identity. David sort of opened things up a bit when he found it and shared with Alex, but I still knew exactly who among my real life acquaintances were visiting. Now, I'm not so sure. It's possible that no one is reading (trust me, that thought crosses my mind regularly). However, it's also possible that I'm only one juicy entry from outing myself to everyone I ever knew in Oakdale. Am I ready for that sort of burden?

I consider killing off Thomas Fletcher more and more these days. It's a growing possibility that he's outlived his usefulness. Perhaps it's time that all of his stories -- the stories that were originally mine -- return to me. If life was simple and easy, he'd be gone by now. Life, of course, is neither.

The world is made for people who aren't cursed with self-awareness. Annie Savoy said that. ("You can look it up.") She wasn't far off the mark, either. There are a lot of people in my life who like to keep things simple -- Wake up. Pee. Go to work. Go home. Eat. Sleep. Rinse. Repeat. They are the people who take everything at it's face value. They are the ones that not only don't see the big picture, but find the idea of there being a big picture a tad bit unbelievable.

I still love them all (well, most of them). Yet, they are the ones that would understand my writing the least. And it's not that I'm worried about opening my writing up for scrutiny -- I did that as a journalist. It's that the journal is more than just my writing. It's big chunks of my life. People already think I'm just a bit off the mark. If they had any idea what's really going on in my head, I'd likely be institutionalized.

Think they have a straight jacket in my size?

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