The Blue Notebook: Prologue, Chapter One and Chapter Two

Prologue

I was going through some old files I have to sort out this afternoon when I came upon something very interesting.  I don't know quite what to make of my finding the old blue notebook, but I have come to believe that everything has its purpose and happens for a reason.  I hadn't looked inside of it in almost five years so I decided I might have a read.  I found some incredibly strange things written down in there by a person who existed six years ago.  That person still exists but has changed immensely since he covered the pages in blue ink.  In some ways I do not recognize him at all; in other ways he seems to be right here with me again.  I decided that I should write them down again but I don't quite know why.  Maybe it will help me learn something about myself.  Maybe it might help me grow, I don't really know.  I imagine by the time I finish rewriting the entire thing I will have my answer.  Maybe I won't, but I'll never know if I don't try.

I will copy them down in the exact same fashion that they are written.  Improper punctuation (some things never change), misspellings and insecurities will not be edited.  This is a word for word exercise.  I truly hope I learn something from it.

Chapter One

Hopefully I have the motivation to write this down when I wake up.  I think it might help me realize something, however, what that is, I have no clue.

1:31 AM 5/11/05

Chapter Two

Maybe realizing something was not really the purpose of this endeavor (words will certainly be misspelled [who am I writing this to?]).  There are thoughts in my head that seem to perfectly explain my self absorbed stupidity lately.  I am actually a big enough moron to go out and argue serious points that I claim to believe in, and then go and do the exact opposite when all eyes aren't on me.  WHO am I trying to prove myself to?  It always seems to be about making other people aware of my problems (which half the time don't even exist) so that they will feel bad for me and then shower me with sympathy that I will most certainly dismiss.  Why does shit always hit the fan when I come to Milwaukee?  Maybe it's cause I'm poor and I can't keep myself incoherent anymore.  I don't even know who I am.

3:35 AM 5/15/05