Tonight I cleaned out my black portfolio thing. Its version 2.0, the first one I had was made of plastic and fell apart, this new leather one works very well. Its worn (going on 3 years now) but it provides a small sense of comfort. Whether that be knowing I can knock someone upside the head with it, take down notes, or read some messages. Over the past years, specifically past year I’ve kept some of my favorite pages in them, glueing them onto a new yellow-pad every time. Looking through I found some more notable pages.
Gossips Statistics, in his school I calculated who, out of people I dealt with, was most likely to be associated with a leak or distribution of information, and the probably a certain piece of information would be associated with them.
I found a very cute heart drawn in craypas or something that smudges, so now I have two copies of it.
I found a page saying Billy Ray can sing at my funerual
I found a page where I wrote down people’s reaction to my new sweater. Did you know Andy Barry and Craig Lavine called it suicide? Jon advised I return it. Aimee Harper thought the world was ending. Katie loved it.
I found things I had forgotten, statistics for error calculations that I wanted to forget… passwords to things that don’t exist anymore.
What I loved finding the most was the little notes from my girlfriend Katie. She would write a little note on the corner of a page for me to read later, or write something down instead of telling me if other people would here. They make me very happy, and sad at the same point that my notebook no longer gets written in as such.
I found a few things I had chosen to forget, well.. I lied.. I didn’t forget, I put them out of sight. I have three blogs I handwrote that are pretty much some of the craziest and bluntest things I’ve ever written. One I wrote at 2:00am, the other two were written while sitting next to a Citronella Candle. In those blogs I divulge thoughts that I activly supress, emotions I’m afraid of, moral guidance in an attempt of achieveing some divine clue.
I re-read them and contemplate putting them online. I decided not to, the content is too deep, too near to my heart to be posted anytime soon.
I’ll leave you with a line from one of them.
I’ve tried and still are trying, hoping, searching for a star to wish on. But none exist in the cloudy sky.
Ok, I made up the wording but it was like that. It has a both figurative and literal meaning.