Friday, May 8, 2009

l jizz nal

In the past few days, partly as a way to procrastinate, I've been going through people's old livejournals. I don't really know what to make of this, being so fixated on the distant past as I near the end of my freshman year of college. I guess part of it is just the strange combination of emotions I feel when I read them. The livejournals make me laugh, they make me sad, they make me nostalgic, they make me happy to be older. But they don't really help me understand anything. Is that what I'm looking for, some sort of understanding? My livejournal, in particular, is completely mysterious to me. Who the hell was I in eighth grade? I don't really get anything that I don't already know out of my livejournal. But I guess there is something in its general tone, some ineffable Tommyness, that gives me some sort of, I don't know, strength and hope for the future. There is much in bushisamonkey's short-lived livejournal to be ashamed of--my feeble attempt at a poem and pretty much any time I talk about a girl potentially being interested in me, in particular--but there is a lot in it that I am kind of proud of.
As a side note, I don't think we really realized how much shit we would have gotten into if the whole You flamer thing had been uncovered. I mean, this wasn't just an online thing. It was writing in people's science notebooks, writing on people's desks; I think it really could have been called stalking or harassment or cyber bullying or some combination of all those things. I remember singing some sort of "Meat Hands" song softly to myself while walking behind Cole Caivano one day in eighth grade math, and I'm so glad that no one heard me.



1 comment:

lil mugi said...

That's amazing, I was just doing that a few days ago too! I think, though, that there probably is something to learn from the old livejournals, even if they do seem kind of trivial. You kind of already said them, didn't you? Like that you feel like eighth-grade Tommy is not the person you are now, or how natural is the tendency to spend timy dwelling in the past precisely at moments when the rush to the future feels most unstoppable. Because at least for me, this is one of those times, with the passing of a whole fourth of my undergraduate life so tangibly close. At least that's how I thought of it when I was doing my own lj-surfing.