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it's been so long that i was staring at my log-in box, confused as to what to submit, for far too long. like, my fingers have forgotten how to write "sorethroat".

as per usual, i've been composing diary entries in my head, but that's probably a result of my composing an M.A. research paper in my head for the past few months. i have only one more thing to submit for my master's degree. then i will have an m.a. in history. when i was 14, did i think i'd have an m.a. in history? well, when i was 14, i was mostly envisioning padded cells and a lifetime in the fetal position, so perhaps a career was not a necessary factor to illustrate that vision.

there really is a lot going on, and a lot going on in my head, especially since i haven't been to a therapist in a ridiculously long time. my social life is so-so, and i have a handful of people i would consider to be suitable confidants. however, i don't see them that much, either. and people don't talk on the phone anymore! i miss lengthy phone calls. people don't even email anymore; communication has been made so minimalistic that we are limited to a one inch by one inch box - text messages, including words that have been minimalized themselves with symbolic substitutions or dropped vowels, and wall posts, which have the antithesis of private communication of substance as the very essence of their character.

fucking technology is ruining my mental health, obviously.

i couldn't even handle livejournal, or keep any of the number of blogs i started, because it encourages brevity over analysis. not to say there aren't some ridiculously long livejournal posts, but how many of them are not hidden under the "cut"? they are aesthetically ugly by their nature, an intimidating block of text which challenges the attention-deficit reader to dedicate a modicum of engagement, of effort, of....CARING. i am quite sure i've experienced that feeling of seeing a large entry and weighing whether it warrants my attention...or whether i'll look at it and deduce "i just don't CARE."

despite that, i still write like this, because it's the way i write, and while i liked having an audience, and miss it, i don't suppose it's NECESSARY. only *i* would be interested enough to read some 7 year's worth of entries to know my story, unless i somehow managed to intrigue an obsessive stalker.

in which case, enjoy!