Sunday 13 June 2004

Pic of the day: When and where not to confess. Photo from anime Sensei no Ojikan.

Choosing my confessions

How to write anything at all after writing something like that? If some days have gone by, it is in part because I have been playing City of Heroes all evening, but also in part because I don't know what to say even when I try. (So after a staring contest with the white page, I lose, and go seek my revenge in Paragon City. I don't do this to cheat on you.)

I could write about how my 250GB hard disk is about to get full with anime. Perhaps I will write a full report when it actually happens, at this speed within the end of the month. (Not that I have even watched all the anime on it. Some day, when CoH is down, I guess.)

I could write about what I eat, but it is largely the same as it was five years ago, when I actually wrote about such things. I could write about the clothes I wear, and take pictures of me with them on, as I also did when the journal was young. But by now probably the only thing you don't know is how I look without them, and I think I'll skip that. I am, after all, not quite baring it all on the net. Only my soul. And perhaps not even all of it.

***

I try, I really try to not lie, to not make up things, to not glorify myself by editing out the embarrassing stuff and showing off the good. I think I have a fairly balanced journal. But even so, I am necessarily choosing my confessions.

Every whisper
of every waking hour
I'm choosing my confessions,
trying to keep an eye on you...

R.E.M: Losing my religion

Yeah, it is a diary of sorts, but it is an online diary. It is not written to get stuff off my chest, well rarely ever. It is not written just for my future self, if any. I'm trying to keep an eye on you. After all, how many times do you need to be told that I love pasta with cheese? Well, it's been a while now since I told you, so perhaps ... Yes, it is still my favorite dinner to make for myself. Of course, if anyone else makes my dinner, I might readily agree to something more advanced ... like lasagna. Lasagna and cannelloni are probably my all time favorites, but I am not a good enough cook to make it worth the time to make them myself. Not to mention that without hard manual labor, I cannot eat enough to make it worthwhile. But you find that in my archives.

In fact, you find pretty much everything in my archives. So I try to write things that my old friends don't know by heart. My newest computer game craze. Anything new I buy that costs more than a meal. The music I listen to, the anime I watch, the books I read. What's new. That's what I would rather choose. But sometimes there is nothing new, or it seems so small and insignificant. (Sometimes even I feel small and insignificant, although this usually fades pretty quickly and I start thinking that I may be god's son until I get sick again.)

***

That's me in the corner,
that's me in the spotlight;
losing my religion,
trying to keep up with you,
and I don't know if I can do it.
Oh no I've said too much...
I haven't said enough.

I am not sure I am actually losing my religion. Perhaps yes. Perhaps it is just changing. This is an age of a man's life when brain cells die, especially in the amygdala, the brain's fear center. This makes sense if you believe that we are born to die. In our 40es, we should by rights have most of the children we will ever have (remember that life used to be short for most of human history). By now, we should not consider our own lives so much worth, or we might risk staying alive at the expense of our children. So it makes sense that our fear of death gradually fades, although it may never leave completely.

I have remained a child in so many ways, haven't I? But my brain doesn't know that. It just follows the script. So my feelings grow colder, my fear of death and my love of life get muted, though they never cross over to become the opposite. For each passing year I become more "yeah, whatever". But It is no fun reading about "yeah whatever". Even I skip some of those days when I read my archives! And I can't just make up stuff to entertain you. (Actually I can, but then I label it fiction and put it on other web sites.) In the end, it gets harder and harder to choose my confessions. To keep up with you, and I don't know if I can do it. Even when I say too much, I haven't said enough.