This is a Weird Place

I'm sitting here listening to, I think, Beethoven's First or Third Symphony. I suppose I could get up offa my arse and go look, but I know its Beethoven because that's the cd I have in the cd player, however, I don't know if its the 1st or the 3rd because the disk has both on it, but i just don't know how far into the cd it is. Okay, I just stood up, took a half a step and looked: 3rd symphony 2nd movement. I don't know why the disks are set up that way. Disk one is 1st & 3rd, disk 2 2&4 and so on. I'm not even sure why I wrote that mini-rant about Beethoven. I love Beethoven. His 9th symphony damn near brings me to tears everytime I hear it. When it comes to Beethoven's 9th I bet a strong case could be made that it was "God breathed" to steal a phrase from 2 Timothy.

But I didn't sign on to write about Beethoven. I don't really remember why I signed on... oh wait, yeah I do.

The last two days have been a lot of fun for me. I have discovered a lot of long lost friends' blogs. I found Brandon's blog and I found Jim's blog and I found Lee's blog. Its been fun reading them and leaving goofy comments. I don't know if they've clicked on the little links back to my blog and wondered "who the hell is this guy?" but I hope they have.

I find myself getting more and more comfortable here. I like this blog more then I did when I first started. I think I might even found blog color scheme that fits. Though, I may go back to a previous one I had. I'm still figuring it all out. I'll keep my online diary (something different entirely) but this blog is becoming something I didn't expect. Something I can be even more "real" then I thought. I can just let it all hang out, so to speak. And that makes me feel good. I don't talk real well. I tend to be quiet and sit in the corner. I like to watch the world as opposed to take an active part in it, but I write. I can get so much more out of me when I write then when I talk. I talk and I can hear cerebrial doors slam shut and see the sign that says "don't go there." When I write something happens. Doors open and sometimes I have a hard time not writing about what's behind those doors. Case in point: I read an entry in Jim's blog about the tsunami. He mentioned something about a "young man" who killed himself by hanging. I knew that guy. He was Adam. I carried so much guilt about his death for along time. I'll never forget walking around his trailer and seeing what he left behind. I'll write about that sometime. I wrote about it in my diary, but I think here I'll be able to really write about it and excise some dark, dusty corners that need excising.

I'm glad I found these blogs. Its good to reconnect. I hope they feel the same way.