Saturday 28 August 2004

Pic of the day: Screenshot from the anime Nanaka 6/17. The text says: "A part of me really wanted to go back to when you and I could laugh at childish things." Yeah. But all I can do is read.

Years ago

I already have a long grey entry, but I think I'll put that in tomorrow and just have a shortie today. Because when I was about to paste it, I looked at my year-ago entries. They seemed so eerily relevant, well some of them at least.

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One year ago, I was writing on the MoM2000 novel, which was inspired by the combination of Master of Magic and Turtledove's Derlavai books. Reading a new book this summer - at about the same time as last year - made me want to continue on it. But I've decided to give priority to my journal above novels for now, unless the urge grows too strong to resist.

Two years ago, I wrote about ADSL and how 1GB a month was plenty for me, since I don't download large files such as movies. Eheh... I now have a few hundred GB of Japanese animated movies, but I don't really consider that piracy since they are fan translations distributed while there are no official alternative in English. Anyway, I'm downloading and uploading a lot, and upgraded my DSL program to a more expensive high traffic alternative. Even I don't always know the future!

Also two years ago was, I believe, the first time I mentioned in these pages my liking for Tsaiko, the weird writing girl. I like her even better now, even though she totally beat me at last years NaNoWriMo. Actually I like girls who beat me (not physically, but being better than I). I am not an envious guy. The funny thing is that I don't like nearly all of her fiction. Some of it is just too smutty for a somewhat God-fearing person such as me, I guess. But I like her personality. And her dinosaurs.

Three years ago I wrote about how malleable our memories are. Ironically, I sometimes read my years-ago entries and am surprised. Was that really so long ago? Was that really so recently? Was I really so open about that?

For instance, four years ago, that's almost painfully lovey-dovey. I wonder what the girl thought; while she didn't read my journal, I am sure she was kept informed by her very talkative family. It is strange that she did not seem to mind my one-way love at all. Of course, she probably knew that I wasn't really trying to get into her pants. Not that they weren't very nice pants. But I really missed singing more than sex. Now I miss writing more than both.

Five years ago, I thought I was emerging from my "portable bubble of ice". Well, I guess it was worth a try. As you know by now, that turned out not to be a one-way road. By now, I intend to live out my life in relative solitude. But if I am still alive five years from now, what will I write? Who will I be? And what will I think about today?