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2 February 1999
So.
Here I go again, about to get my psyche handed to me on a cyber platter. Happens every time, you know. I forget who it was that said, "The blank page, difficult mirror, shows us only what we were." Webspace has to be even crueler.
But here I am, throwing caution right into the teeth of the gale, gaily mixing metaphors like paint at Sherwin Williams, and trying to at least make someone think about something. Damned if I know what.
Am I the only one frustrated by Yahoo mail tonight? I've submitted the thrice-damned password more times than I thought anyone would be allowed to, and still no mail. Frustrating as all hell. Time to sacrifice a newbie to the Yahoo gods.
A great big thanks has to go out to Eclipsic for encouraging me to write again. I would never have realized that anyone I actually know and care about missed my journal without him. Yer the best, m'luv.
I hate to cut short this first go-round of the new paradigm (I've always wanted to use that word in a sentence!), but I have to go to a karate class. It won't be the last, though.
Stand back. This could splatter.