Just another buzz killer.

An hour ago I confirmed the worst. Diary X, or at least the Diary X I’ve been using for the past three years, is not coming back. I guess I should’ve seen it coming, Stephen did say he couldn’t start it up again, but all the posts on the DX group about restarting got my hopes up…

Okay, so it seems a little silly to be grieving over a blog, but this wasn’t just any blog. It was the blog, the first blog, the perfect blog. I remember the day I found it, all the hours I spent posting over and over, finding new templates, messing around. It was bliss. But it’s no more.

So, I set off on a search for a new blog. I keep up my Xanga, post every day and what not, but most of the shit I post there is fluff. My Diary X I used for more “deep” thoughts, for lack of a better word. I guess this is the replacement. But you know, it’s not half bad. I just have to figure out how to make my own templates…this prefab nonsense is bothering me.

It’ll take me a little while to get used to it, but there’s something liberating about throwing all caution to the wind and setting up a new blog, under a name you’ve never used before.

…what can I say, I have no life.

In other news; today dad was going through all of our old home movies and recording them onto normal VHS tapes. He’d call me and the twins or Abra in every once in a while to look at something – the family on the beach, a birthday, a trip to the cemetary. They brought back memories.

There were a few with me and my goats on it. I’ve always hated being on the camera. I stood sheepishly off to the side, shooting nervous glances between the camera and my goats. It’s been awhile since the goat days, I suppose. I was twelve the summer I have them, that’s pushing three years, but it seems like it wasn’t that long ago. But watching it, I see big differences.

I was able to run around in cut offs or just a big t shirt, free of worrying constantly about covering up my legs. I didn’t look so tired. I had long, annoying hair. I think I was fatter then, which is a little disturbing. Hannah called me Rach back then, “Rei” didn’t exist like it does now.

I miss my goats. I’d like to get some more. Maybe this summer. If I’m not in Colorado or Oregon or Australia or Canada or God knows where else.