November 25, 1998 Wednesday
You know, I kind of consider this a red-letter date for myself. November 25th is a private little holiday. Now, I don’t have cake and ice cream or anything, but it is the day I began the writing of my life. Even if the feverish need to record everything has in parted abated, I still like to describe a few points in my day that I find interesting. I don’t think anyone will understand, nor do I expect them to, why I do this–at least people who keep their own journals.I have to smile a little bit. If I had a nickel for every hour I spent in front of his aging computer of mine… Yet it has all been worth it. Since the beginning I have carefully stored the volumes in a shoebox, and the shoebox over time has become quite battered, especially transporting to and from college. I kind of wish I started sooner. Like in junior high. That is a time what a lot of inner turmoil about growing up occurs, and it would be good to have a few stories down. And, as I always lament, if only I had written during my junior year. Only now do I realize my mistake; I would like to have more about my class and those times than basically just my senior year. But enough of that.
I just wonder what kind of things will be written about the future. Every year I see such a dfference in me. From a young fifteen year old to now a sophomore in college, there are a few different Wills roaming about these pages. I believe almost all of that change has been good and worthwhile. Is it possle to feel wise at the ripe old age of 19? Hmm. Sometimes it feels that way, which I have such an early, simplist Will to flip back to. I like it. If this is what I am now, what will I be like in another four? What will do doing, then, in the November of 2002? It will be fun to see.