I downloaded the new Windows Live Writer and have been sitting here for like an hour thinking of things to write about. It’s like, what is there not to write about? I could talk about Pete, or the new job. So i went back to the old Livejournal and read about my former self, and I really don’t remember a lot about what happened back then.

A few weeks ago I threw out an entire box of notes that had been sent up here to me from my old room in Miami.

It was like sacrilege. I hang onto everything with a memory attached to it, and my boxes of notes are no exception. But this box was from middle school, and contained a lot of ridiculousness like “I don’t want to go to class” and “I wrote XXX a note about XXXX.” Middle school was so much drama for me. Even looking through the box was overwhelming, so I put it out in the recycle box and resolved that if it rained that night, they would have to go.

It rained, and the notes were recycled. Which got me thinking. What do I really want to remember? Reading my old journals is almost painful. I don’t want to bring that stuff back up or relive any of it. The same goes for the old Livejournal blog, which has both good and bad memories (and thankfully a privacy setting where only Kelly and a few others got to see me being too honest). I think that my note boxes are going to all be recycled. It’s really hard to let go of them, but I learned that I am not the person I was back then, and neither are the people who wrote those notes. I’m not even in contact with most of them except via Facebook.

I just want to relive moments. Good ones. Maybe I will start writing memory photographs in here instead.

We are celebrating our first Christmas in town this year. It’s weird, because Cristin and Matt will come over for dinner on Christmas Eve, and then on Christmas I’ll make Pete and I Cream Chip Beef. He works at 4 am the morning after Christmas, and then we’ll head over to PG for some Christmas fun. It will be the first year ever that I haven’t been with my family. I’ll probably cry. I’ve cried along all of these little changes (changing my name, etc), and I think it’s okay. I think that it’s weirder to not have trouble letting go.

Off to clean, good times.