I wanted at some point to give some background info on myself and my life, just so I won't have to interrupt the narrative flow and explain everything as it comes up.

I am 25 years old. I have a college degree, but I have yet to actually seek a job that could put it to use. (oh, are you going to hear a lot about that. To quote Dr. Frumtwist, "She is one severely twisted puppy.") I'm currently working as a waitress in a small casino in Wisconsin.

I've been dating someone named D. (not his real name. Now that I think about it, I don't think he's ever told me his real name. How odd.) for six years. We've been living together for about 4 years. Sometimes, he mentions marriage, but I don't think that's what I want. Frankly, a wedding seems like far more trouble than it's worth. Eloping seems like far more trouble than it's worth. I just don't want to be married. That seems like way too much of a big step. My current plan is just to keep living with him until "Common Law Marriage" kicks in, and then I won't have to worry about it. One day, I'll just wake up, and say, "Oh, I guess I'm technically married now. That's probably for the best. And this way, at least I didn't have to buy a dress." Fear of Commitment, I think, is what the kids on the street call it. I'm about 90% sure that D. is The One, or at least that I probably could do a lot worse. But I'm not totally sure. He has a lot of disturbing personal habits. I've proven that they are habits I can live with, but maybe in 6 more years, I might change my mind. (GAAH! see, this is what happens every time I try to think about D. and me. He's considerate. He's always there when I get really neurotic. He makes me laugh. I love him. But I just don't want to Be Married, to him or anyone.)

I have a cat, named George. As far as I know, that is his real name.

I spend way too much time on the computer.

About 2 years ago, I had a real journal. Then I stopped. I used to have a desperate need to write, even if it was just babbling for a few pages. Then I didn't. I don't know why.

I have a lot of rationalizations, though. I stopped doing a lot of drugs. I moved to a depressingly small town. The Psychic Friends put a curse on me when I mocked them. I realized I was doing nothing but indulging my various and sundry neuroses by obsessively writing about them, and made a deliberate effort to take a step back. I'm lazy. I grew up. I spent a few weeks wondering why I didn't even want to write anymore, then let the whole idea slip out of my mind.

Last night, I was randomly surfing, and I ended up in DiaryLand. I'd been toying with the idea of an online journal (and immediately dismissing it, slapping my brain and saying "Stop that! Bad Ana!") ever since I saw one about a month ago. Last night, though, I wanted to write. For the first time in 2 years, I wanted to write, and I knew I had something to say besides "Work sucks, my life sucks, waah." I don't even know where my current volume of paper journal is, and DiaryLand was right there. In a blind frenzy, I found myself registering. Then, just as I was marshalling my thoughts, I realized I was late for work. I cursed a bit, and drove to work. As I was driving, I thought, "Well, whatever it was, it's gone again now. That empty online journal will sit there forever, before I feel that need to write again." I was wrong. I came home from work, and I wanted to write. Today, when I woke up, I wanted to write. It's a great feeling. I didn't realize how much I had missed it. (disclaimer follows) I don't know how long it will last. Maybe tomorrow I'll have no desire to write at all. /disclaimer.

It occurs to me that I always categorize my need to write as some external force. It probably isn't. I must make an effort to remember that.

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