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02/27/05 10:20:23 pm
Hello again. Back at my keyboard again, attempting to have a regular “web-address” to those of you out there that may be reading. It has been a lot harder than I originally thought to keep up on this log, or a least have regular posts. Such is the bane of the procrastinator [insert sheepishly apologetic grin here].
When my friend suggested that I might want to start a “blog”, I wasn't sure on it at first. She had a point. It might be fun. I might finally find an outlet for all the pent up thoughts in my head. But I couldn't think of anything to write about. Hell, that's why I work in a bookstore. I love to read, but I can't write worth a damn. If I could, I hope I would produce something more substantial than the sporadic spewing forth that I have thus far.
Now that I have this site and I have been working on it for a while, it has really given me time to think. Not just about Walter, but about my friends in general, life in general. I hate to say it but I haven't been that great of a friend. Not that I have sat around and told secrets behind my friends' backs or actually done anything to hurt them. Instead, I have been guilty of letting our friendships drift and sag. I'm not going to take full responsibility for this, but I am a guilty party none the less.
How many of us aren't though? I'll be you money that you're in the same boat. You or your friends went off to college. At college you made other friends. Meanwhile that group you hung out with since high school is doing the same thing. Your new friends don't necessarily mesh with your old friends, and you don't necessarily mesh with theirs. And why you decide to throw a party, the old friends talk amongst themselves, the new friends talk amongst themselves, and some of each group don't even bother show up or call. And it is frustrating.
I don't really have any “new” friends. Just a lot of work acquaintances. I get so busy with work and general stuff that I don't get around to calling my friends very often. Come on, you do the same thing. Too much to do; never enough time. A constantly accelerating disease of our post-industrial society. Even our forms of relaxation are made to be quick and planned so that we can fit them into our busy schedules. When I do get around to calling my friends, the conversation really doesn't go anywhere. Honestly, it's just that I don't really have anything to say. After a while, it just seems that you've said all there is to say and each conversation is just another rehashing of the last.
Actually, since I haven't looked back at my other journal entries lately, I am willing to admit that I have gone off on this topic before. And with that statement of my own confusion, I am ending this entry for the night. I think, since I don't have to work tomorrow, I am going to go crack open a book, have a drink, and go to bed. I could sort through my thoughts, but that's what this is for, right?
See you next week.