My Little Digital Diary.

"Dana we need to meet and talk. Because you are obviously taking me for a joke. I have too much shit going on for you to be fucking up my appearance and career. Whatever issues you have with me personally we need to settle it now. You are taking advantage of my cool. I don't appreciate it. And I swear on my mother's grave I'm not playing this time Dana."

I don't understand why a person, who never read my blog while we were together, would start after expressing that he "has no desire to know me anymore." So, after I let him in on the fact that his opinion is literally equivalent to the nasty hair on my big toe, he tells me that he's "honored" that I'm still writing about him (congratulations, another one!), and that I can keep on writing in my "little digital diary." As if I needed his permission. Teehee.

I love my little digital diary. Love affairs with fuckboys are ephemeral; my love affair with writing is eternal. I've literally kept a diary since I was eight or nine years old.

April 18, 2000
Today Jarel called. Me, him and Jonathan were on 3-way. Jonathan said I don't act sophisticated. Jon called Ronald. We pretended like it was only Jarel on the phone.

I also went through a dumb and slightly awkward Harriet the Spy phase. You know, jotting down irrelevant observations to try to solve some irrelevant mystery that probably never existed in the first place. I still have all of my diaries on my bookself -- Hello Kitty, marble composition books, Where The Wild Things Are, you name it. Through the power of Al Gore (or whoever invented the internet, ha) I can now digitize and share my future embarrassment. The bottom line is, if I think it, I'll write it -- no matter how childish or revealing. It's just who and how I am. To quote the bad bitch Gloria Steinem, "Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else." Blogging about these things helps me to see with an unbiased eye just how ridiculous and silly it really is. Writing is an unmatched therapy. To quote gerbil-faced T.I., this shit is "my life, your entertainment." To quote a lovely lady who shares my sentiments about "fake ass people" who deceive casually and deliberately, "eff him and his ugly gf who wears sweaters from Kohls."

I put a hit counter on here before I left for work at 3 p.m. It's reached 73 since then. I guess more people than I realize are catching wind of my little digital diary.