The Nineteenth: I'm Burning for You.

I like "blogging" because it gives me an outlet when I want to write and can't think of something creative to do.

I feel so fake, man. Like my entire course of interaction with society is just artificial. i'm an outsider, maybe not by design and not really by choice - just by circumstance, I guess. I made a choice many years ago, I remember the exact moment I turned away from society, and I've spent a lot of time since then trying to get back in but it's not the same. I can function, but it's not as lucid as it should be.

I think there are some song lyrics in that, but I'm not feeling musical or poetic at the moment.

I'm trying to remember Randi. Not the Randi I dated - the Randi I first met, who I used to flirt with at the blwoing alley (or, whose flirtations I attempted to return.) There hasn't been a female since her who's talked to me the way she did then. There was an earnest boldness in her personality back then; over the years, I suspect, it melted away. And by the time we started dating, she - and indeed, I - was a different person. And maybe the key difference is that back then, I wouldn't maybe have been the type of person who wouldn't whine like I do now in this blog. Well, I can't say for sure, but I think that since now I've got more years to reflect on, I do more reflecting.

It's a form of therapy to write in this thing. Even if the entries are all the same - and sometimes it seems like they are - at least I'm getting my thoughts out, not bottling them up so I can end up hurting someone because my mind is so cluttered with thought. It's all in the open air.

Keep on Rockin'
-Scott