ahhh, a journal.

Someone once told me never to keep a journal - especially a daily journal and especially one that was open to the world. What on earth was I thinking? I am sooo over-exposed, as usual, I suppose. Sometimes, I go back through the last 10 months and read random postings - wondering why I was so open about some things and vague on others. I wonder, what everyone else must have thought when they read my crazy Cabo postings, or my high-school drama eulogy of ship life. An online journal - who would have ever thought such a thing would have existed. I can remember days when I would hide my journal from those that I loved. Confided in it solely and could leave all of my inhibited thoughts deserted on the page. No longer more. I guess in a selfish, vain way I know that everyone will read this and so I censor myself in a way that no one should if they are going to actually keep a journal. It doesn't really make sense - it's almost like I should just address my journals - Dear Friends, ..... Then I think about all the people that I actually don't know that have access to my journal - like the entire Blogger site. That's even weirder. Something about anonymity that makes us all feel safe I suppose. To talk to someone that doesn't know you, doesn't know anything about you or your faults - there's something so comforting in that. But you just don't get that anymore. Unless, you bump into some random person at the local starbucks that is actually worth a decent chat and then it's not you can spill your guts about everything you would like to. Therapists are for that. I think honestly if we as Americans could just randomly trust one another to hold our deepest secrets inside we would. I mean think about it - if you just walked up to some random stranger and said - - "Do you have second?" "Can I talk to you?" "Will you listen for a moment?" Would they??? Likelihood is no, because they will think you are weird and of course everyone has their own problems - who wants to actually listen to your side of your own story? Then you actually have those friends that you can confide in, but you know they get tired of hearing the same stories of your life, the same shortfalls that you have and for some reason they can always see the light much easier that yourself. Hmmm, ahhhh, the journal. I will continue because it gives me some self-gratitude that I have actually sustained something like this online journal for as long as I have. I never dreamed that I would when I set this damned thing up. I just figured it would another thing falling through the cracks of my paved road. Hmm, funny that. Now, I am starting to wonder, how long will this blogger site let me ramble? And how long will my friends read it? Will I be 30 still writing in this damn online journal? I think it would interesting to print every page of this journal and pull out gaps for a book - of course this is only 10 months of my life, not near enough. I would have to start at the beginning for a book deal, I am sure. Afterall, that's the kind of stuff that sells - the broken family childhood and lost paranoia that sets deep within a childs mind, and how everything is the parents' faults and then there's the drugs, and the rockroll - -- - - always rock-n-roll. That is such a good part of my life. It's my mistress, I suppose. I always know that Van, Patti, Bob, Al - they know me. They sing to me. And I enjoy that. Ohhhh hell, I am rambling. I just needed to get something out of my chest. It was making my skin red.