I’ve privatised the “emo” posts. That was doing nobody favours, particularly because I felt like I had vent my frustration and painting a negative image of someone who means a lot to me. That’s not something that I should publicise; and I doubt anyone actually read it but it detailed one of the many inner conflicts I have. It didn’t make interesting reading and most of all, it exaggerated everything. Alas, there are inner demons which will stay…inner.

I got a (rather) belated Christmas present, which consisted of an assortment of things, one of which was a diary. I haven’t had a diary since I was twelve, and oh do I cringe. Seriously, horrific, pathetic, oh dear I don’t know why it hasn’t been burnt. And initially I thought I have no use for a diary; all my important events I sync between iPod and iCal. But it’s a really nice diary, it’s one of those Paperchase buttery softcover ones, and it’s a pretty shade of pink. Diaries you can’t dawdle with, as you know they are going to expire. Anyway, after some initial doubts, it’s now going to be my journal. Today I was thinking how pointless that would be, and how entries would be consistently one of the following: “I am happy/I am sad/I am revising.” And then in a fit of anger/confusion; I wrote a page in it. Obviously things I would never let anyone else read Baldy made me read it to him, and he will probably be the only one who will ever get to. And then linking back to the posts I’d just privatised; there is drama in my life. There always is. I just don’t express it anymore, because once upon a time I had an overtly honest blog but then people found out about what I’d wrote about them (not that I tried to keep it quiet anyway) and I got smeared as a bitch (for about a day, admittedly). There is such a thing as saying too much, but I’ll see if I can write something every day.

I’m also attempting to write a second ’story.’ The last story I wrote was GCSE English coursework, which I frequently lament about how awful it was whenever it mentioned, but it was only written in a few weeks. Essentially my writings are me trying to describe a sequence of snapshots. I judge how good the work is over how vividly I can remember the original snapshot. And that’s what that story was - a sequence of snapshots that ended up amalgamated into some sort of twisted plot that no-one but myself will ever understand. And it’s all “semi-autobiographical;” I take elements of myself, the people around me and the songs I listen to, and exaggerate them. The characters are also one-dimensional, there’s never any moral story or silver-lining. There’s never any dialogue. It’s just me, trying to expand on an inner persona or ‘desire’ that I have in a fictional character in a world moulded around them.

So the first snapshot of this one is currently being written. Very slowly. I’m lucky, because it hasn’t left my mind for days, and I feel like I have time to really develop it. I have a perfect title (which I won’t reveal as I’m tempted to buy it as my next domain name) and the main character is all formulated; or at least the element of my character which I’m throwing into it. I plan to write this over a number of years. I want to travel the world/visit places/meet people/read widely to get inspiration. It’s like a concept story. To me, it will be a piece of artwork. And I plan to litter it with academia I learn, such as philosophy and political theory. I want to see if I can weave something seemingly vain and typical, with deeper ideas which don’t form anything concrete. Now that I think about it, it loosely resembles a plot that I started a number of years ago (and never finished, clearly) so I might dig that up adapt it, or I might delete it from my mind and concentrate on what I have in front of me. It does seem like I’m making a big deal about nothing, but it’s one of those things that I feel like I’ve been ‘meant’ to do for years. I won’t set myself a time limit but I’d like to have it done a few years down the line.

EDIT: After a long phone conversation with Baldy, he read some of his journal. He writes great little philosophies. One of them was “Hello Journal. Journal, is such a manly word…so much manlier than diary. It’s like wallet is to purse, it’s of those words that just makes us feel much more manly.” It’s quite true, that was just brilliance.