2000-12-21 - 17:03:29
Damn it all anyway

Quote of the day: "I wager that if all men knew what each said of the other there would not be left four freinds in the world" -- Blaise Pascal

Sometimes I think this online diary phenomenon was spawned in the blackest pits of Hades.

Forgive me, regular readers, but today I must digress for a moment and aim a few comments at a particular subgroup among you who tend to think every entry IS aimed at them them anyway. I wish I'd never told my real life friends where this diary was, and I wish I'd never read theirs.

I should have known that honesty isn't really what people want these days. I should have known that I'm not allowed to be upset when someone writes venomous things about me, and get it out of my system before I accept an olive branch ... especially from a person who tells ME that diary entrys are the spewings of the moment, and not to be taken as representative of one's entire life or point of view.

You're tired of this shit? I'm tired of this double standard. You're hurt when I get upset over your entries, and then you turn right around and fume over mine.

You even said, "I'll understand if you shy away. I bit you pretty damn hard." But then you react as if you don't understand after all. *sigh*

Okay, that's enough. In fact, ALL my commentary on this subject is done. If I ever mention it again, somebody please slap me. Hard. Several times.

I wanted to be happy today. I got a cute Santa candleholder from a friend at work ... I got a pewter candle cup and snuffer from another co-worker ... I got a set of hummingbird windchimes from my immediate boss for my new apartment. I couldn't afford to give them anything but scented sachets and small ornaments in return. It felt so Christmasy around here though, everyone's cheerful and looking forward to their five-day weekend. I like the people I work with, even if my job isn't much to speak of.

I want to be happy, period. There's been too much not-happy in my life the past few years.

I can't think of anything else of import to say, that I have clear enough in my head to get on paper intelligibly.

Maybe I shouldn't write any more in my diary at all. I'll have to think about that. I can't write anymore until December 27 anyway, I'll be at home for Christmas. *sigh* We'll see.