If you read my previous post, you’ll see it was from 2007.
I recently dug up archives of my maiden blog, a little xanga affair begun a year or two before my 2007 post. It’s funny to read it now, how I gush on and on. Surprising too, because I ardently avoided being overly personal with this blog -not that you could tell from my recent postings.
I haven’t had earth-shaking hypotheses or super-intellectual queries lately, and you have to keep the readers occupied. In this old blog, I shamelessly gush about how my day went, what I am thinking, almost like stream of consciousness. It was suitable for me then.
I feel much more guarded now. Just stay back now, and we’ll keep the details sketchy. When I wrote the posts I’ve been reading through, I was a sophomore in university. I had been out of my parents’ house for a bit over six months, and I can still remember how wide-eyed and optimistic I was. My roommates could have told you.
That apartment housed me for three years. Same bed, same window. When we first moved in, I remember wistfully looking out my window. At night, the street light cast a romantic haze on the sidewalk and I could imagine exciting worlds through the glass. By the time I left, I imagined no adventure or worlds.
Generally, I describe me to myself as a pillar of strength unto myself. But not as if that were admirable. Is this my innocence turned shrewd? I don’t think I’m too tough yet. But I’m definitely sporting some awesome armor. A good thing?
And now, despite my better judgment, this is much more first-person than I should wish, but so be it. With any luck, I’ll move on soon, and will post some dry, interesting bit of philosophy.