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Journal
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Wednesday September 2, 1998 9:00PM I haven't written much lately. It's not because I've been busy settling into the new job. It's not because I haven't had the time or initiative. It's not because nothing's been happening. What it is, is that I've had a very difficult time deciding what I can write about and what I can't. I've been trying to err on the side of keeping things close to the vest. The problem is that I've come to rely on the journal for exploring the issues effecting my life, health, happiness and well being. When I can't do that, I suffer for it. And the people around me suffer for it. It comes down to this: Do I suffer Jeffrey's anger and disappointment for writing about a subject he may wish to keep private, or do I suffer my pain in silence? You see, it's been a real pressure-cooker around here lately. Last week I didn't just crack, I broke. A major reason that I broke is because I couldn't write about and analyze these issues in the journal. And because I broke, it added to the stress load Jeff's been carrying, and he broke only hours later. Things went from bad to worse that evening. And I can't write about it. But I guess it has me wondering. Much of the stress I feel is related to issues and people in Jeff's life, not mine. Have I become too close to his situation? Can I still be supportive, yet detached? Is that what's been bothering me for the past few months? I've felt like I have no life. Is it because I've taken over his?
Thursday September 3, 1998 8:00PM I got an interesting note today from an guy named John:
I’m glad to have an outside view. John makes some good points, which I’m taking under consideration. The issue I’m wrestling with is an individual’s right to privacy. Just because I’ve decided live my life online, doesn’t mean everyone I interact with has to. Fair is fair. On the other hand, if I write only "my side" of things, then not only are those statements out-of-context (and perhaps harder for you to understand), but the other side of things are left to your imagination and therefore misrepresented. For example: you see me duking it out with someone around the corner, and you can’t see them. How do you know if I’m boxing with an inflatable Bozo The Clown dummy, somebody’s grandmother, or some big, mean, nasty mother-fucker. You don’t know. And therefore you can’t make an accurate assessment on my actions. Life’s a bitch and then you die. Actually, I got an interesting, albeit cryptic, note last night too. From my friend Larry. No, not Larry the web-journalist, but a Larry I’ve known since high-school. He’s only just discovered the site. Now you’ve gotta cut him some slack on this one, considering he’s married, has kids, dogs, house in the Hamptons, etc. (Gad! He may even have a minivan!) But his note really bowled me over. He wrote, in part:
Hmmm. So now I’m scary. I wonder how much he knows about last week? Up to Wed
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