so very vain

I've said before... I really only talk about myself. I'm big on self-reflection. It's important to me to see what is really "there" and not just what appears to be "there".

So, I love my blog. I love it because I get all these thoughts on "paper". They'd bounce around in my head and probably do some brain damage if I didn't. Also, my blog is not private. Not many read it... three people I know for sure, and a few anonymous whom I don't think I've ever met. But, it's out there for anyone to find. Google knows my address. Anyway, there is a certain satisfaction in an online journal... it's exciting and satiating to know someone finds you interesting enough to read your vain rantings. So, for many years I've kept an online journal... and, this is actually my second.

A friend bought me a new journal. It's beautifully bound in dark leather and filled with blank lined ivory pages. It has a book mark and a leather strap to hold it closed. I have about 30 or so journals in a plastic case. Some of them aren't completed. I've become so reliant on being able to type out my thoughts that my penmanship has been reduced to a scribble... worse than it was years ago. Despite these facts, I plan to fill it with words I won't put online. It's never going to pass eyes apart from my own, so, it might be therapeutic. That was my intention before the blog craze began.

I'll record my mysterious memories here always. It's like an addiction. I'm addicted to my readers, be them few or many. You give me a rush... a sensation that's difficult to describe. It's adrenaline. It gives me goosebumps to know you find me interesting... when I only find myself rather vain and self-absorbed.

So, well, thanks for reading.