October 26, 2001: To begin with

I stopped for coffee after work at Indigo. Well, coffee and a sandwich, for supper, really. I felt like being out with other people, not home alone. I've been in a rut of going to work, going home, going to work, going home, for a couple of months, and I'm getting edgy. I don't want to feel like I live in the suburbs. I don't live in the suburbs, for a reason: I like being in the city, feeling attached to it, feeling like I can go out at any time and find life and make contact and be alive. To come home at 5:30 every night to watch television is not why I live in the city.

So I went to Indigo after work. The people at the cafe were pretty hostile, which is unusual. They both had an "I wasn't even supposed to be here today" vibe going on. Whatever; the mochaccino and sandwich were killer anyway. I decided the swiss cheese and ham sandwich is so good because of the honey mustard sauce, and I think I'll try and make it at home. Maybe honey mustard garlic, though. Honey mustard is good, honey garlic is good, honey mustard garlic will be twice as good, right? Or would it be four times as good? The garlic would have to be roasted, and the mustard would have to be dijon. I'm going to try it. I'll let you know how it works.

Oh yeah. You. There is no "you". This is the first time I've written. Right; I've only started about a hundred diaries in my life. Okay, maybe a dozen. They used to be on paper. I'd start, write for a few days, then lose interest. Later, I'd come across the books, read a few lines, and cringe in embarrassment. I don't know if the stuff I wrote was really so bad, or if I just embarrassed myself that much.

I've started a couple of internet journals, too, mostly on those free, idiot-proof weblogger sites. They all got left by the wayside. Lost interest, no time, whatever. I think they were all doomed to failure because I didn't really commit, or buy in, or something. I started them expecting them to fail. This time... I dunno. I can see myself in a year still writing.

This time is different. No, it is. It's different because I really want to capture this time for myself, not just because I want an audience, or I want attention. This is a really exciting and happy time (in my personal life), and I want to remember it, and savour it, and record it.

Inspiration