Jenn, you are very great at making neat designs.. but it's too complicated and I can't figure out where the journal part of intoanother.net is and I can't leave notes on the livejournal and maybe you'll never read this but I thought I had to try and point out to you that I'm dense and not getting it because you still look a little like Katie Holmes woohoo. I forget what my point was. I wish the new eps of Dawson's Creek would come soon.

Anyway. Where was I? Oh yeah. Sunday. Soccer day. Brøndby RE lost. It's all going to hell. I knew it would. Maybe I should stop watching soccer. It aggravates me. Just kick the damn ball in the damn net damnit. Maybe Golf would be better for my nerves.
no secret today
This is my brother doing what I prefer to see him doing. Leaving. Woohoo. Don't try to decipher his gesture. He doesn't like my camera for some reason.

Also, I really think that Young should nominate me for a best guest entry. I do. I want more awards. How about someone nominating my croynics entry for best romantic entry? That thing was pure love, baby. Or nominate me for best multimedia journal. I have dancing monkeys! If that's not multimedia then I don't know what.

Okay that's enough of that. According to my calculations they won't be accepting more nominees in a couple of hours so this can't be seen as fishing for nominations. I would be too modest to do that. Did I mention I won a bitchie? I rock.

I'm the best.
I toold you. No secret today
There are things you don't know about me. There are parts of my life I never talk about. It's funny. Some deeply personal and hurtful or embarrassing things I feel completely fine writing about. And then there are some that I just can't. Sometimes things don't make sense. Sometimes I'm not sure what I make up and what I pretend and what is real and what is really real. But you gotta fake it just a little. I didn't use to. When I had no readers. Then it was all raw. And boring. And real. But I can't really do that the same way today. I don't know why. The audience is watching. I don't write for myself. Ooh, I know that's so wrong. All the intelijent people wood say. A journal is for expressing yourself. It's about you and not other people. What's the difference between a journal and a diary anyway? Anyway, that's how it is. I write for you. I write for the audience. I know people are reading this and that makes a difference.

If I didn't want people to read it then I'd write it in my old paper journals. It's funny looking at them now. I wrote in them almost the same way as I do on diaryland. Like there was an audience. Like there would be someone else than myself reading it. I always wanted to write. And have people read. I wish I had the focus, the ideas or whatever to become a real writer. I used to list that as my dream job. Author. Pah. Maybe I should go for fireman or cowboy instead.

Paper journals are boring. No one talks back. There's no community. Unless you count the voices in your head. I like diaryland. The slight chance that people are actually interested instead of seeing through you. Almost feeling you're somebody. I know I'm not the most popular. The best. But still there are people who come here. And keep coming. I wouldn't want to give that up. I know it's silly to feel disappointed when I check my guestbook and there's nothing new. And I know I wouldn't get half the hits I get if I didn't run dailysp. I know I'm nothing more than you. And you. And you. No more important. Just another html page floating around on the net. So easy to surf by. Think of the millions that don't ever notice you.

Think of the few that do.

Group hug.

But yeah. That all matters to me. It does. I am after all the most obvious hit whore 2002. Sometimes I worry too much if people will like me. If I'm crowdpleasing too much. Or not enough. If someone will come today and find me funny but then come again tomorrow and I'll be all depressed and they'll get bored. Or maybe they'll come and relate to something serious I write and then the next day I'm making stupid jokes and they think "what? he's not depressed at all, what a loser" and take me off their favourites again. But then I slap myself around and tell myself in a high-pitch voice that it's really not that important and that I should have some lemonade. Because who really cares.
quit looking for secrets!
As long as the show is free someone will watch it.

We'll all be the same in the end.

Well, that was all very interesting. At least I thought so when it came to me at 2 am and I had to scribble it all down instead of sleeping. Geez. Sometimes I think I need to learn to ignore myself.

Time for bed.

np: zwan - a new poetry (020407)