Talking to the Air

I don't put just anything in this blog, believe it or not. I do wonder who might read it that I don't know about and it just seems weird. But I think of saying all kinds of things.

I was looking at someone's thing yesterday not myspace is it called myface? And he had all these friends under there. I started a myspace page, I'm not sure why. My niece has one, nice pictures of all her trips all over the world, interesting quotes from books, friends from all over the world.

I guess that's what inspired me. When I started it I found I didn't have any idea of what to say. And I haven't posted my picture. For one, I haven't gotten round yet to learning about pictures. I guess that makes me pretty not with the times. And the idea of it makes me feel vulnerable. I'm not crazy about how I am looking, grey hairs, overweight, and other defects I worry about. Sounds charming, right? And then there is the paranoia factor.

I did get one email from some guy, which I didn't answer, when I first put my name and stuff on there. His email did not appeal to me at all.

I didn't really plan on putting my name, first or last, on here at all, but blogger did it for me (my first name). I don't have any friends on my myspace. And it's about true in real life. So, that bugged me, made me cry actually.

I put stuff on here as an outlet in some ways. But it's a bit like talking to the air. Or perhaps another form of having a diary. Do people write diaries or journals hoping that someone might read it someday? That's what my writing class teacher suggested. Maybe sort of.

I have a bunch of pages of journalling. They are in all kinds of notebooks in a very chaotic sort of way. So like me I guess, very random. I think it does help me to some extent, organize my thoughts, sort through crying fits, generally think things through, and to remember things. Talking to myself.