past perfect

During the beginning of the room shuffle (which we are still in process of) I found a box of old mix tapes and pictures from high school. I look at the pics and am kind of surprised to think that many are from 10 or more years ago. It doesn’t seem plausible, but there it is. I think back to who I was in those pics and my first reaction is to believe that I am exactly the same person, but that is, of course, entirely wrong.

I also found a journal I had kept during the summer of 1998, right after taking Seppo to the airport (when he moved out to LA for a summer job) to just before I moved out here. It stunned me how raw my entries were, so devoid of the cleansed-for-the-public eye process that I subconsciously go through for my blog. I could feel so vividly who I was and understand how I felt back then.

I don’t think reading my current entries years from now will give me the same sense of who I was. Perhaps I should keep a hand-written journal in addition to this.