I've never had an online diary before because I was always told writing with paper and pencil was better. I can't remember who told me that or the reason they gave for why writing or typing was preferable. It's just one of those things you pick up in school.
Thus, up until now, I have avoided the dreaded realm of typing out my thoughts instead of writing them. However, I'm out of notebook paper and since I won't be visiting my parents' home for another few weeks, I won't be able to get a new journal from the stack of them piled somewhere in my room.
I believe introductions are in order. My name is Connor Lee Veenstra. The First.
Hello.
I am 22 years old but look (and feel) like a 19 year old kid. It makes it a pain in the ass to order liquor (rum and coke, by the way. Yes, I'm that basic.)
I have ADHD, Aspergers syndrome (mild autism for those of you too lazy to Google) and have both a higher and lower opinion of myself than I should. In the same way that I both over and under eat.
The higher opinion comes from fantasy, really. I have this idea that I'll be great someday, somehow. That I'll be the wonder kid who rose to greatness on nothing but his talent and being at the right place at the right time. Even now, I imagine this blog being turned into a book (this didn't spawn my idea to use chapters as headings; rather the other way around) and everybody is so enamored with my wisdom that the book becomes an instant best seller.
Yes, I'm that pathetic. (That's the negative opinion of myself kicking in.)
That's sort of why I'm not doing these journals as Word documents. When all you're doing is typing them out and saving them on your computer, there's not a chance that anybody else but you will see them. What use do I have for my own neurotic musings and occasional nuggets of wisdom? Other people should see them to help me out or praise me for my heaven-sent advice. That was always the image I had in my mind when writing in a journal: somebody would find them, read them and become enamored with my story or sympathetic to my struggle. An internet blog (which could plausibly be seen by anybody) gives the same feel as journal writing.
I guess I should talk about what I did today.
Well, I ate very little (my grandparents gave me a Starbucks gift card for breakfast and I have a loan smoked sausage in my refrigerator) because I have like no money. I wandered around the house for a bit wanting to punch something. I took what is presumably a huge bite out of the one terabyte of internet our landlady allows us every month (video tends to drain it).
Me and one of my roommates had to do a serious clean out today. Our fly problem has gotten too much to handle, even with a fly trap in the kitchen. I took out the trash and found the bag and can lined with maggots just waiting to come out.
So, we killed as many as we could and let the doors open for some of the others to escape. I washed out the cans and bleached them. I was an idiot and wore a really nice shirt, thinking I could handle the bleach not getting on my clothes. Did not happen.
I hope that takes care of our fly problem, because it was hell. There were dozens of them; fat, juicy little fuckers, clinging to our windows in packs. I don't think I could take that again. Thank God for moms who actually know how to handle these kinds of things.
Learning how to handle a house has been a bigger hassle than I thought it would be. Especially when you live in a house where nobody talks to anybody else. Seriously, the cleaning job that I did with my roommate is the longest I've ever had contact with any of them.
This is going to be very different from actual journaling. With paper and pen, I could just write down things with no context, no flow to how it's written, no explanation. However, if I'm going to have readers, I imagine they'd want that kind of thing. Even, potentially, things about me. Would I just do a whole entry on what kind of music I like or some shit? Nah; you're blowing this out of proportion. Nobody's gonna read this.
I think this might be one of those projects that I'm super invested in in the beginning and just burn out after a week. Then again, I'm doing this for myself as well as a presumed audience.
Thus, up until now, I have avoided the dreaded realm of typing out my thoughts instead of writing them. However, I'm out of notebook paper and since I won't be visiting my parents' home for another few weeks, I won't be able to get a new journal from the stack of them piled somewhere in my room.
I believe introductions are in order. My name is Connor Lee Veenstra. The First.
Hello.
I am 22 years old but look (and feel) like a 19 year old kid. It makes it a pain in the ass to order liquor (rum and coke, by the way. Yes, I'm that basic.)
I have ADHD, Aspergers syndrome (mild autism for those of you too lazy to Google) and have both a higher and lower opinion of myself than I should. In the same way that I both over and under eat.
The higher opinion comes from fantasy, really. I have this idea that I'll be great someday, somehow. That I'll be the wonder kid who rose to greatness on nothing but his talent and being at the right place at the right time. Even now, I imagine this blog being turned into a book (this didn't spawn my idea to use chapters as headings; rather the other way around) and everybody is so enamored with my wisdom that the book becomes an instant best seller.
Yes, I'm that pathetic. (That's the negative opinion of myself kicking in.)
That's sort of why I'm not doing these journals as Word documents. When all you're doing is typing them out and saving them on your computer, there's not a chance that anybody else but you will see them. What use do I have for my own neurotic musings and occasional nuggets of wisdom? Other people should see them to help me out or praise me for my heaven-sent advice. That was always the image I had in my mind when writing in a journal: somebody would find them, read them and become enamored with my story or sympathetic to my struggle. An internet blog (which could plausibly be seen by anybody) gives the same feel as journal writing.
I guess I should talk about what I did today.
Well, I ate very little (my grandparents gave me a Starbucks gift card for breakfast and I have a loan smoked sausage in my refrigerator) because I have like no money. I wandered around the house for a bit wanting to punch something. I took what is presumably a huge bite out of the one terabyte of internet our landlady allows us every month (video tends to drain it).
Me and one of my roommates had to do a serious clean out today. Our fly problem has gotten too much to handle, even with a fly trap in the kitchen. I took out the trash and found the bag and can lined with maggots just waiting to come out.
So, we killed as many as we could and let the doors open for some of the others to escape. I washed out the cans and bleached them. I was an idiot and wore a really nice shirt, thinking I could handle the bleach not getting on my clothes. Did not happen.
I hope that takes care of our fly problem, because it was hell. There were dozens of them; fat, juicy little fuckers, clinging to our windows in packs. I don't think I could take that again. Thank God for moms who actually know how to handle these kinds of things.
Learning how to handle a house has been a bigger hassle than I thought it would be. Especially when you live in a house where nobody talks to anybody else. Seriously, the cleaning job that I did with my roommate is the longest I've ever had contact with any of them.
This is going to be very different from actual journaling. With paper and pen, I could just write down things with no context, no flow to how it's written, no explanation. However, if I'm going to have readers, I imagine they'd want that kind of thing. Even, potentially, things about me. Would I just do a whole entry on what kind of music I like or some shit? Nah; you're blowing this out of proportion. Nobody's gonna read this.
I think this might be one of those projects that I'm super invested in in the beginning and just burn out after a week. Then again, I'm doing this for myself as well as a presumed audience.
Comments
Post a Comment